The act of standing

On shifting ground

Takes two legs planted
Slightly defiantly
Slightly humble
Arms relaxed
Stomach held in
Chest held out
Shoulders squared
Chin up
Eyes bright
Forehead clean
Breath even


Stand tall
In your wisdom

Stand up
For yourself
For others

For the young
For the mute
For the small
For the old
For the weak


~Shaku Selvakumar, July 2016


Spring Delights
Spring Delight. Picture courtesy



Hearts for Future Generations
Hearts for Future Generations

Where would your heart end and mine begin?

Is it in the valley of long lost friends
Or at the peak of treasured moments

How does the thought of loss figure in?

When each day grinds into the next
Shredding the minutes into an inevitable past

When I look up and say “remember when”
And you look at me, eyes far away, slightly damp

Thinking of the day before yesterday
A younger time

When you wore courage like a worthy cape
And I held hope like an impenetrable shield

When our worlds first collided
When we believed that heaven could be summoned
And time could be held forever in a bottle

With three little words.

–Shaku Selvakumar Feb 2016


Most times the mysteries within are difficult to fathom till much later.
When you sit in your cozy armchair staring into the distance,
Nostalgia enveloping you in its foggy embrace,
You nod in some sort of revelation.
You were in the middle of transformation.
While you thought everything around was changing,
It was you who felt the tremors while the world continued to turn.
It was you who was learning a new language.
And your words that came tumbling out effortlessly once
Now stand stilted and hidden
As they too find their way
Through your own foreignness.
As you were shifting shapes.

–Shaku Selvakumar, August 2015

One of my favorite poets, Mark Nepo describes it so well in this passage.
“Often as we are being transformed we cannot tell what is happening. For while we are in the midst of staying afloat, it is next to impossible to see the ocean we are being carried into. While struggling with the pain of change, it is often impossible to see the new self we are becoming. While feeling our hand pried loose by experience, we seldom can imagine what will fill it once it is opened. As the days rinse our heart, we can feel something unseeable scour us through, though we can’t yet imagine how much fresher milk and sky and laughter will taste once we are returned to the feel of being new.”

Route66  Picture courtesy
Picture courtesy