the flashes

it comes in flashes
it is there now
no, it's gone
and I wait
it comes again
there it is, hazy, voices muffled

while i am driving or cooking or looking out of the window
i steer the wheel too much, skip red lights, even hit the curb
the tea boils over staining the stove
while i try to hold on to the glimpse just one more second
it's precious, but it's fleeting
never stays

and i wait by the window
for it to show me who i am
long hours go by
and i devour the smells, all i can
to force the moment
but no...it doesn't come

i boarded the train from patna, then a flight to America
hoping for nothing, yet desiring so much
i slept the whole journey, waking up in my dreams
oh, they were manufactured dreams
ready-made perhaps
I had woven in my memories, experiences, scents, sights and all
all I could pack in
all that would remain
there was the lemon tree, the orange flowers on the vine
the flower pots on the old window sill
my aunt's bed that smelt of IODEX and balms
so soothing

and so much more
i did not want to lose them all
so I stored them
visiting them quietly
so they remain pristine
uncorrupted by the new