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Quote by Ekaterina Yakovina

“The question What do people want to find on other planets? New love or new life or new place for different wars… What do you wish to find in my soul? New love or new life or new place for spiritual wars…”

Quote by Ekaterina Yakovina

Work

Prikosnovenie Vechnosti

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Ekaterina Yakovina

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“You don’t believe in leprechauns. A myth you say they be. You don’t believe in pots-o-gold, or four-leaf-clover tea. You don’t believe the rainbow’s end alights on treasured finds. They are illusions meant for fools you say ‘ave lost their minds. You don’t believe in whispering your wishes to the wind, where on St. Patrick’s holiday they blow t’wards Ireland. You don’t believe in magic spells or longings coming true. Yet, head-to-toe you dress in green on Patty’s Day, you do.”

“A BLESSING FROM MY SIXTEEN YEARS’ SON I have this son who assembled inside me during Hurricane Gloria. In a flash, he appeared, in a tiny blaze. Outside, pines toppled. Phone lines snapped and hissed like cobras. Inside, he was a raw pearl: microscopic, luminous. Look at the muscled obelisk of him now pawing through the icebox for more grapes. Sixteen years and not a bone broken, not a single stitch. By his age, I was marked more ways, and small. He’s a slouching six foot two, with implausible blue eyes, which settle on the pages of Emerson’s “Self Reliance” with profound belligerence. A girl with a navel ring could make his cell phone buzz, or an Afro’d boy leaning on a mop at Taco Bell— creatures strange as dragons or eels. Balanced on a kitchen stool, each gives counsel arcane as any oracle’s. Dante claims school is harshing my mellow. Rodney longs to date a tattooed girl, because he wants a woman willing to do stuff she’ll regret. They’ve come to lead my son into his broadening spiral. Someday soon, the tether will snap. I birthed my own mom into oblivion. The night my son smashed the car fender, then rode home in the rain-streaked cop cruiser, he asked, Did you and Dad screw up so much? He’d let me tuck him in, my grandmother’s wedding quilt from 1912 drawn to his goateed chin. Don’t blame us, I said. You’re your own idiot now. At which he grinned. The cop said the girl in the crimped Chevy took it hard. He’d found my son awkwardly holding her in the canted headlights, where he’d draped his own coat over her shaking shoulders. My fault, he’d confessed right off. Nice kid, said the cop.”

“My minds eye, an oasis where the final petal is caught in the wildfires, foregrounding my inner complexities, a make-up of my day-to-day state of mind twisting and twirling, causing a downpour of sentiments; coiled winds of thought – a spiraling attempt at illuminating my mind. A poem can be a dream, whirling around an idea or, entirely avoiding it – my poems behave like dreams where patterns of thought drift through watery eyes, drawing on the unconscious in hazel cindered minds eye.”

“The Servants The words are like invisible dutiful servants. We tell words to each other. We tell words in a blaze of anger. We tell words in beauty of love. A whole host of servants… These servants embody the words in life. The words of hatred may become a war. The words of love may become a baby. The words of childlike admiration may become an inspiration. The invisible dutiful servants...”

“Hindi Poem on Motherhood- माँ सिर्फ शब्द नहीं कोई आखो में ममता का सागर बातो म जीवन कहानी है माँ सिर्फ शब्द नहीं कोई माँ तो धरती की जिंदगानी है रहकर माँ के करीब भर जाता हर एक घाव है ज़न्नत के हर सुख से सुंदर माँ के आचल की छांव है पूछो माँ से राहे कामयाबी की हर राह उसकी जानी पहचानी है आखो में ममता का सागर बातो में जीवन कहानी है माँ ही है जो धरती पर जीवन निर्माण करती है सहते सहते हर दुःख को ना जाने कितनी बार जीती मरती है हर फरिश्ते से माँ होती है बड़ी माँ तो कोई चमत्कार रूहानी है आखो में ममता का सागर बातो में जीवन कहानी है माँ सबसे ऊपर विराजित माँ से जग में, नहीं कोई बड़ा माँ है सब से अद्भुत ताजमहल माँ है मुकुट कोई,कोहिनूर जड़ा कुछ न मांगे रब से, खुद की खातिर माँ तो सिर्फ औलाद के सुख की दीवानी है आखो में ममता का सागर बातो में जीवन कहानी है जो महकाता घर के हर कोने को माँ वो सुगन्धित इत्र है बेहिचक बता सकते जिसे सारे राज माँ वो शानदार मित्र है माँ का नाम ही सहजता, सुलभता माँ का नाम ही आसानी है आखो में ममता का सागर बातो में जीवन कहानी है माँ सिर्फ शब्द नहीं कोई माँ तो धरती की जिंदगानी है”

“The steel door of the incinerator went up and the muted hum of the eternal fire became a red roaring. The heat lunged out at them like a famished beast. Then Rahel's Ammu was fed to it. Her hair, her skin, her smile. Her voice. They way she used Kipling to love her children before putting them to bed: We be of one blood, though and I. Her goodnight kiss. The way she held their faces steady with one hand (squashed-cheeked, fish-mouthed) while she parted and combed their hair with the other. The way she held knickers out for Rahel to climb into. Left leg, right leg. All this was fed to the beast, and it was satisfied. She was their Ammu and their Baba and she had loved them Double.”