NO SOUND OF YOUR ARRIVAL, NO CLUE TO YOUR DEPARTURE

No sound of your arrival, no clue to your departure.
When do you come? When do you leave?
Sometimes in the courtyard . . .
when the tamarind tree
stirs in the wind,
a sprinkling of shadow
stipples the brick walls
and is absorbed,
like water drops hurled
by someone on parched earth.
In the courtyard the sunshine sobs unhurriedly.

In closed rooms . . .
when the flame of the lamp flickers,
a vast silhouette devours me, gulp by gulp.
Eyes stare at me fixedly
from a distance.
When do you come? When do you leave?
You are in my thoughts so many times in a day.

NO SOUND OF YOUR ARRIVAL, NO CLUE TO YOUR DEPARTURE