maya stands by the banks of sarayu -
the flesh on her feet only grains of sand
that waters of time lick & spit anew
as she waits to hold again rama's hand.
what thought of his has not bled in her mind.
what dream did not have his sails turning back.
she waits past her time while the crowds divined
their lies chasing trails of his untouched track.
lotus of rama's arrow - see now where it lies -
in dirt in dung in hate & in stone
in blood & in bone & in whispered cries -
only in future can the past atone.
she hears sita's song of fire & then earth.
she senses rama exile all his sorrows
into sarayu towards a new birth
shedding all strings of unknown tommorows.
maya disappears through the smoke & noise.
from behind poll booths flee the golden fawn.
the crowd listens to maya's fleeting voice -
rama is alive when you know he is gone.
~Ajay
20/10/2020
YOU ARE READING
bliss station ~ poetry
Poetry~ where is your bliss station / you have to try to find it ~
