Her Eyes

By Anand Gupta

My doorways to heaven,

Her eyes. Her eyes!

Most definitive yet having

thousands meaning in them,

making deer shy, and carrying

untold agony of not seeing what

she wants to yet she has seen it

all except peace in Pir Panjal,

from promise of Shiva to Nehru,

all mountains, sages, songs,

martyr with abyss looking back,

humans with their cunningness

and with rare kindness, guns, prayers,

children making her heart swell,

then those eyes lost to pallets,

meadows, lakes, Turkish dream,

rivers gushing at slope of the

mountains then meandering

thereafter like her love now merging

into infinity, meeting the Divine.

Her eyes. I miss her eyes.

I miss them looking at me,

I miss them waking up for me,

and sleeping with me, I miss

them searching my presence

in all my absence, I miss them

missing me, I miss every reflection

falling on her eyes. I miss the most

divine prayers written in her eyes,

leading to heaven, I miss all of her.

But only if she could find a wisp

of nostalgia still rooted in those

eyes telling her to follow her heart,

I may get to meet her somewhere

somehow to tell her divine eyes that

it was I, and it’s only I since time

of Adam and Eve waiting for her!

And her eyes! I miss her! Her eyes!

By Anand Gupta