Thursday, October 24, 2013

a lotus bud unopened

reading river hymns
in the Rigveda
before I journey
‘round the globe . . .
the same pulse in my own wrist

distant temple bells . . .
how clearly I hear the words
in my dream
slip into the dance
wherever you can

my snapshot
of an artist sketching
carved in stone. . .
what eludes our grasp

the  sacred hill
in search
of the goddess—
the way lined with garbage

like my own son
this beggar
hitching himself along
on calloused hands

a mother and child
relieve themselves
under the jewelers’ billboard:
trust in God and gold

the path
Gandhiji walked
to his death—
fresh rose petals
in his footprints

I lay marigolds
at the flame
of a Great Soul
still burning

Atlas Poetica 15, summer 2013

1 comment:

  1. I like how you've taken us on your inner journey across the globe. An effective beginning, ending - and middle! :)

    My very favorite tanka here are 4, 5, and 7.