Devti
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From my recent series Mountainless Poetry (AKA Plain Poetry)
I've climbed the monkey-sided mountains
overlooking Rishikesh;
a spill of Rishis in the granite bowl below,
each with callous, with incense, with their
various beggaries...each sweet-tongued with
prasad.
I've bent to kiss a broken man;
my lips on his toes, his laugh in my ear.
Antarayaami statuary all around.
Japa mala japa mala japa mala;
Namostute.
I've tucked my frame under
a stories-filled and stories high
Hanuman; folded myself into
a Room of Song. Chalisa after
Chalisa for hundreds of years.
The pilgrims and flowers, the
ghee candles and Sri Ram Sri Ram
Jai Jai
Rams.
I've sought myself. I've sought the selfless.
I've made friends with both.
I've come home dusty only to
be Lost.
I've come home refreshed only to
be Lost.
The Names, the mantras.
The Bhajan, the Ganges.
None had Answers for me.
Each had answers for me.
None had Questions for me.
Each had nothing for me.
And so I bow.
I thank.
Each.
Every.
One.
I thank One.
Copyright © Stephe Watson | Year Posted 2020
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