Poem: Passion by Orville Lloyd Douglas

It only takes one glance, one moment, one second, to feel you .

All I have to do is simply imagine with my eyes wide open.

Your manhood is more  potent than a drug.

I tremble when your dark hands touch my ebony skin and I surrender.

The euphoria is overwhelming.

When you exploded you screamed in Punjabi.

I swallowed the warm honey and savoured it.

Your tongue traveled from the fire in Mumbai, drenched in the sweltering heat of  Kingston, across the universe of solitude in Toronto.

For a long time I wasn`t cognizant this  love  was deleterious.

I  close my eyes praying it was just an illusion.

I had this mirage that we will wake up in bed on a Sunday morning as the tea and coffee are brewing.

I can smell the roti, Mango Lassi, salt fish, ackee, dumplings, and Samosas.

We read the Toronto Star together celebrating our eighth anniversary.

You promise me we will visit India soon.

I still hold on to that hoping it will happen.

Tears stream down your face.

You say you are crying about your dog Jimmy he died when you were only six years old.

You say this is not God`s way.

But you are not a Christian you are Sikh.

I kiss you and we embrace.

I want to lie to you and say everything is going to be alright.

The stack of gifts, the well wishes, the ceremonial mixtures of east and west.

I fall asleep but suddenly feel barren.

I jump out of the bed, search the house, but you are not here.

That incident was a year ago.

I remember  walking  in Markham Ontario and I saw you holding a newborn, and enjoying a picnic with your beloved.

Your folks have smiles on their faces but you are solemn.

This bitterness ate your heart out.

I want to pull her hair out but I stand in the shadows lurking, seething, with this hunger this desire.

I cringe when you kiss her and your mother smiles.

I guess it was easy for you to decide.

I turn away from your family moment, the camera clicks as the baby cries for breastmilk.

You soothe the child in your arms but quickly turn away when you see me.

Her womb is full again and this is your duty.

I understand, sometimes passion just isn`t enough.