In a living voice from the past
messages are tall shadows.
Life goes on like before people
standing, sitting, chanting
walking and preparing for the prayer meets
beside an ancient river of faith.
Sages chant for peace, order
flowing in a vessel of light.
Home for all who have no
homes to go, no links to live.
only prayers exist for ages--
are a window, hope of the Beas flowing
carrying the heart of a nation
living and longing, faithfully
holding the world hard …
Ponder highest wisdom, clear and deep
The reverent eyes must see our coloured faces
Floating on sliver flowing in rhythm
The flashing water of life
Where my own people live
All my ancestors stay awake with its dark night.
I’ve know rivers going home
Ancient, hand holders
I bathed in the Euphrates when I was young
I heard the singing of the Nile
I took my love to the Ganges
I rushed to Beas when she declined my advances
Dulung lulled me to a painless sleep.
Gushing through ancient forests,
old temples and hard mud rocks
My path is drawn by the reckless wind
My fury turns wild, dejected
when I beat the rocks in the Subarnarekha;
another poem will mean nothing more.
I never shut amid the flow of the damp soul
lingering, drifting yet running with a broken heart.
My Aunt Bea loved her retired life,
walking around with a hair sprayed
salt and pepper gigantic beehive,
always having a buzz sound in her head,
Her friends wondered what crazy
medicine she'd been spoon fed,
they could understand having a dog for a pet,
but having a bee is what got them upset,
Aunt Bea claiming the bee loved her beehive,
that he made a nest in there and that now he thrives,
said he helps her out by giving her buzzwords,
her friends just shook they're heads
thinking this is just absurd!
Aunt Bea informing me the little bee easily gets airsick,
that why he's a homebody who rests inside her beehive "nest",
I just smiled knowingly, knowing my Aunt Bea's
always been a lover of insects and a tiny bit eccentric,
all the while thinking, guess its better than a pet tick!
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