In which we never occur
“god is in the details”
So a promise made,
to count each blade of grass
till we reach the edge of the field.
But the horizon moves with each step ahead,
the setting sun becomes our allegory
for the ever emerging lover.
Faith is denying,
it is the never emerging other.
Where the sky shifts from dusk to night,
god switches a colour slide.
Where my skin meets yours,
air slips right through
like a tune from a sandalwood flute.
You ask when we can stop counting,
when I find my sadness,
I will drape prayer flags over its branches,
and leave the rest to the wind.
the sky is disappearing into the moon.
Next to me,
the grass has grown into the shape of a body.
god is a blur.
By Karuna Chandrashekar
Karuna Chandrashekar is a psychotherapist practising in New Delhi India. Her work has been featured in A Blackbird Sings, The Sunflower Collective and is forthcoming in Eunoia Review and Anomaly Lit.