Listen to Marianne reading ‘Hand Under Hand — Epilogue’ How many are the grains of sand? Much to learn of hand under hand In the pause, now at cause Before hand under hand Yet even more buried deep in the land Wide open spaces in hand under hand A gift sublime Time after time When we took a stand With hand under hand Let go of control Through hand under hand.

Listen to Marianne reading ‘Hand Under Hand’ we slip our hand — under — his hand oh, feel his palm! it’s like a balm what gift is this that heals a rift? he, though wordless still, he told us: i cannot do a thing, it’s clear but i am here — for you — i’m here.

Listen to Marianne reading ‘Hand Under Hand — Prologue’ There once were four women looking after a man To help him not stiffen, there was so much to plan There were appointments each week and schedules to tweak They’re in it for the long term so some ease they seek. My mother, my sister, our caregiver and me We’re doing…

— for Celine Sara, my mother, who taught us that the needs of the world are right in front of us. Like the sunny sun and cloudy cloud, moony moon and starry stars , thundery thunder, lightning lightning, rainy rain on grassy grass— if you can lift up a compassionate…

— with deep gratitude to Dr. SJA and Dr. SK This day it is like other days at the hospital: work, think, discuss, learn like many other months But on this day the doctor says — a doctor who is not a doctor to earn a listening doctor, a thinking doctor, solving every problem as…

Working working, first weeks of the pandemic. Tense. Long long days. Worried. Must survive. I am stuck to my chair. My head turns, not outwards to the left as always for eyes to rest rest a moment on the neighbourhood, the distant hills, the sky. Inwards to my right, eyes…

— for Anitha Abdul Hamid (Listen to Marianne reading this poem) Alone in the front hall of our home, she sits through the night. It is the night before, before morning comes bringing funeral day. She is not thinking, I am Muslim he was Catholic. Her humanity rises above our religions, watches…

Listen to Marianne reading this poem When stories are told of this time it might be said: she did what she did because he was her beloved father. But this is not the truth. This is the truth — I dove into the ocean though I could not swim I leapt…

A reflective essay on the writing journey thus far for the poetry collection — A Man with Shining Eyes On 4 August 2021, in the introduction to this collection of poems, I wrote: About half of the poems that I will be sending out over the next weeks were written…