Tag: Life

We Almost Came Back

We Almost Came Back​
​
we almost came back ​
to the place where we parted​
perhaps to say​
we never meant​
to say goodbye—​
​
on an island ferry
I saw your face​
arise from a sea​
of nameless faces​
and you saw mine​
​
I sat on the brown cot,​
notebook on my lap ​
the ferry’s horn ​
blasted through the cabin ​
as we started to move ​
​
the sun sat low on the horizon​
pink and orange light​
shimmered​
across the wooden deck ​
as I wrote—​
​
I heard footsteps from afar​
you walked towards me​
wearing the green shirt,​
the blue jeans I knew​
my legs,​
they could not move​
​
you stopped midway,​
twenty steps from where I was,​
leaned across the railing​
and just stood there​
​
our eyes met​
then you looked away,​
your hands gripped hard,​
jaws tightened,
Spanish eyes peered​
into the distance,​
where the sea turned​
darker,​
deeper​
​
I waited for you ​
to come closer​
perhaps​
you waited for me​
​
I sat where I was—​
a nearby radio played​
a song we knew​
when the music ended​
you walked away.​
​
the ferry reached the dark island​
faint lights from other vessels​
flickered upon the pier​
my hands felt numb​
as I grasped the gangplank ropes—​
​
I turned my face​
towards the gathering​
monsoon wind​
​
—D. G. Vachal ©2026​

Image by Harrydona @pixabay

China Blue


Some poems come back to us differently over time. China Blue began in memory and longing, but also carries quieter inheritances—of Spain, of family, and of journeys that stretch farther back than I once understood. When my father brought his children and grandchildren to Spain, it felt less like travel than return. And somewhere behind the blue of memory lingers an older story still.


China Blue

China blue in my veins
throbs
with Valencia orange groves
sways
with weeping willows
beside the bamboo-lined
waters—

El Greco blue
lines my heart-valves
pulsates
with nightingale songs
dances
with crimson chrysanthemums
under the autumn sun—

Where the sun rises
I greet the dwindling sunset
speak the dialect
of disparate vernaculars—

China blue in my veins
and the orange groves.

D. G. Vachal ©2025

Polonaise in A-Flat Major, Op. 53

Polonaise in A-Flat Major​, Op. 53
​
The last gold of evening​
lingered ​
upon the piano keys​
after the music ​
had already ended​—
​
I come back to the old piano​
my mother used to play​
her etudes and concertos,​
the ivory keys​
yellowed by time—​
​
suddenly I hear ​
the ecstatic pounding​
of Chopin’s Polonaise ​
in A-Flat Major—​
​
my mother’s hands​
striking the old piano​
long after evening​
had darkened
​
D. G. Vachal © 2026​

Accompanying image created with AI assistance
​

Among the Jasmine Blossoms

Among the Jasmine Blossoms

a key opens
my father’s filing cabinet
locked
for so long —

the second drawer
overflows with my letters:
stamped envelopes
squiggly pen strokes
from when I was a child,
a teenager,
a young woman,
a mother —

every letter quietly kept
as a jewel
when they came to him
from far away —

now that I am near
I hear his laughter
while I walk in the garden
among the jasmine blossoms.

D. G. Vachal ©2026

Image Attribution: Mokkie, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons

A Stranger at Sunset

A Stranger at Sunset

the sky was light mandarin
the first time we met
you, a stranger from far away,
my task to welcome you
to our land
for just a few hours —

you and I
walked to the bus stop
you with your crisp white shirt
long sleeves,
creaseless
I with a topsy-turvy skirt,
mismatched blouse
checkered,
floral,
yellow, pink, and green —

shy and tongue-tied was I
you spoke on through my silence
your footsteps
confident
upon the cobbled streets
while I stumbled on —

you found a place for us to dine,
a table where the light fell soft
upon your face
for the first time
I looked into your eyes
as you looked into mine —

the dusty red bus brought us back
to the same stop
there we said goodbye
your smile lighted the night’s darkness
it was then I knew
I would see you again.

D. G. Vachal ©2025

Image by ELG21 @pixabay