Solomon of solemn eyes
Surveyed all and everything
He weighed the objects
And the people-
The books, the toys,
The cars and family.
With great sagacity
And keen acumen,
He chose the red car
And Mother Goose;
Then he glanced up
And bestowed a cherubic smile
On all the beaming faces
Surrounding him.
He smiled, he pouted,
He played with his trains
And was heard
In gentle monogues
Over the tracks
And over the bridges.
But, on the stage,
In the church,
And in Tae Kwan Do,
He could be heard
With bell like clarity
While his eyes reflected
His infectious smile.
In some sedentary moments,
One hears high wailing
And is awoken
To hear the little mite’s
Ear-piercing howl!
But when she twinkle-toes
Across a stage
In a luminous tutu
And translucent wings,
Tinker Bell herself
Will not match the magic
In her effervescent smile
And appealing grace.
Grief is ruthless,
Taunting till one grips it!
Shed or unshed,
Tears tried in vain
To wash away the grief
That happened suddenly
And surprisingly.
Whether affecting slowly
Or striking with lightning speed,
One is never ready
To withstand the onslaughts,
The ever widening eddies!
Where is the foothold
To stop the sinking,
The infinite whirl
That is relentless
And giddying?
Try this, try that;
Talk, walk, do something.
Yet, there is no end
To this maddening swirl,
The ever widening whirl of grief.
But, there has to be a pause.
A sudden brake
Or a slow lowering pedal
That comes to complete stop
To the maddening depth
That sucks one in,
Leaving only dry leaves
Of plausible memories.
Is there a hand reaching down
Or a branch within grasp?
Does this have to be eternal?
Reach out for someone,
For a consoling gesture,
Or a shoulder to cry on.
It is always an extrovert
Who endures quietly,
The silent grief
Unperceived by the world,
However excruciating !
Is there anyone out there?
Is that a cry in the wilderness,
A cry that wafts with the breeze
That waltzes by, unnoticed?
Is there a Providence
To pull one out of this abyss?
Or reach in
To the core of entity
To find oneself
To bear the grief
That almost toppled
The very existence.
Eliana of the dusky locks,
Dressed in polka-dotted frock,
Lay on the floor,
On the dusty carpet
And was admonished for good measure,
Sent to the corner
To stand immobile.
There were repeated transgressions
And the girl paid with the absence
Of all the scenic views behind her.
But, when she pulled up the bench
And sat on it,
Running her fingers over the keys,
Playing an arpeggio with nonchalance,
The music was so divine
That one forgot the floor and the carpet.
Many forms, many faces-
They parade every day!
Grief is among us
Every day,
In tangible nuances
Or concealed mourning!
One may cry till the Sahara
Bursts in bloom
Or one may be stoic
And be like the eternal stone
Unmoved outwardly;
One may go to the other Pole
And party incessantly
Or one may grieve wordlessly
Without any sigh or other signs,
Patiently repining.
There is grief in lost love,
There is grief in loneliness,
There is grief in rejection,
There is grief
In never being claimed,
There is grief in unexpressed love,
There is grief in abject desolation,
There is grief in eternal melancholy,
And there is grief
In a life that lived well, but transiently.
Grief is intense, not bland.
It grips with pincers
And leaves one
In an excruciating cauldron of pain
Or holds one in numbing hoops
That leave life drained.
Grief may come in periods
To lead life in fits and starts.
Grief can be pervasive
Or slovenly, keeping life out of focus.
But grief is untold!
Those who grieve
Choose their paths;
They strive to return
To a life before grief
Or pursue some open paths
To life’s untrodden choices.
I am a seeker,
A seeker of truth.
I sought in the heavens,
I sought on the land,
I sought in deserts,
And I sought in the oceans,
But, elusive it was
And it cleverly camouflaged
To hide from my eyes.
I became desperate;
I could not find
What I was Seeking!
I wandered, hope dwindling,
From palace to hovel and back;
It was as though I was purblind!
For all my failures,
Scales could have been
Covering my eyes.
For all my care, pure truth
Was hidden behind
More than seven veils,
Forever unreachable.
Then, one day,
A star never seen,
Shone brightly,
Up in the heavens.
I was caught in its allure
And an urge came strongly;
The only option
Was to follow the star.
I heeded the urge;
The goal was within reach.
I set my course west
With a spring in my steps.
I loaded my camel
And filled the carry bags.
I began my journey
Seeking again!
The star was hope now,
But the journey was long.
It led to a palace;
But the star hid
And the palace failed.
Leaving the palace,
The star shone ahead
And hope had rekindled.
Through sparse vegetation,
I followed the star
Which stopped abruptly
Above a cave turned stable.
I never had to glance
At the resting animals.
Because, in the warm, hay-scented stable
Where the cattle blew hot breaths,
In a manger lay truth,
Wrapped in swaddling clothes-
A baby newborn
With an unseen halo
And marvel in his eyes.
His wonder pierced me.
And I saw my self
In his eyes!
It was my self, seeking
Only for myself,
With no thoughts
Given to others!
My life spread out
In front of me.
I sought truth
And failed to see it
In the people surrounding me.
The baby smiled
And raised his hand.
I felt the gentle trickle of his blessing
And Grace descended on me.
Replete, I rose
And approached my camel.
Perched on my mount,
I knew with clarity
To turn the camel’s head.
I chose a different path.
It was a whirling dervish
That perked my senses
When sight and sound, scent and touch,
In abundance, assaulted me .
When cool air had begun
To nip my sun-warmed nose
And I hugged my jacket
More tightly to my body;
The tree branches had begun,
Already, to be denuded!
All around me,
There was a shower
Of yellow, gold, russet and crimson
Giving a Holiday
To the verdant hues;
They sprinkled the earth
In ever-changing patterns!
The fresh-cut grass tingled my nose,
And the fallen leaves scented the air
With ripe sweetness;
The leaves danced
To fall in gentle circles
And in a gentler rustle
When they became stiffer with dryness
Until wet with occasional rain.
It is Fall,
Nature seemed to shout
When furred creatures hurried
To seek shelter
In hollows and niches;
The comical squirrel
Was flustered with eagerness
To carry more nuts than it could,
Its cheeks bulging enough to burst,
In anticipation
Of a prolonged winter
When earth is bereft
And is smothered
In snowy blanket.
There was a dawning sadness
In waiting for inaction
Of the leafless moments
When soporific woodlands
Prepared for a long slumber!
When, in the sand, I picked my way
In an endless search
For something I might have lost
While growing into my septuagenarian status,
I found that I never lost it.
It walked with me like a shadow
Although I never knew it.
It never set its feet before me,
But hid behind me
Waiting for me to turn-
Waiting for me to find it.
It was ME I had to find,
My Self – my being!
In the vagaries and bustle
Of a life that meandered
Through social nothings,
Pointless pursuits
Of the known and the unknown,
Tangled in baseless relations
And all the turmoils-
Both internal and external-
Of a war-torn world,
A society inked in race and class
And gargantuan cupidity
Polluted by a political miasma
That wafted in to sunder everything
Rather than link,
My Self hid as a permanent shadow.
Walking by the sea shore,
I was called back to my self;
All the broken shards
Of the nomadic mind
Collected themselves
In the sheer beauty
Of a color-drenched sunset,
The sparkling silvery waves
Laced with the froth and fizzle,
The pleated verdant fronds
And the cascading golden flowers
Of a languishing coconut tree,
In the seductive fragrance
Of a jasmine garland
In the braided hair of its nubile wearer,
In the silky unfurling of rose petals
In the bridal bouquet
And many more!
Cymbals and harps
Sang in unison
And bells clanged
In joyous clamor
Just to proclaim,
Myself.
