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Image by Steve Harvey

In search of the Halcyon

Yesterday was your birthday. I listened to our favourite songs, especially the ones we used to sing together. I had always made an honest attempt to hum along. But you had been the one to carry the tune with the  strength of your heart. There were no gentle melodies for us – the times were such. The wind would surf the waves of notes from your vocal cords conjuring up a storm on the open ocean, wanton, free, uncontainable.


scratched vinyl ­­­record –

the song skips a line

at  forever

Image by Ivan Aleksic


She is sobbing.

Should I put my arm around her as unobtrusively as possible? Shouldn’t she be allowed the time with her grief ? If not, the sorrow might dam up against the walls of her heart or eat up her bones. The anguish might even form dense, dark, cloud-masses that rain hard, black-laterite which will then lodge in her alveoli. She will then, start thinking of the things that she hadn’t done right, or of the times that she hadn’t been there, after which she will create a concoction of guilt drawn from the shadows.


last journey –

each one’s version

of a fire-licked sky

Geethanjali Rajan photo.jpeg

Geethanjali Rajan teaches Japanese and English in Chennai. She has been writing haiku and haibun for around two decades. Her poems have appeared in online international journals and print anthologies.  She is currently the editor of haiku at cattails. She is also on the editorial team of Café Haiku. Geethanjali’s poems with Sonam Chhoki (Bhutan) can be read in the book Unexpected Gift (November 2021), a book of haikai collaboration. Another book of haikai poems with Sonam Chhoki , Fragments of Conversation, is forthcoming. Her interests include music, books, and Japanese calligraphy.

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