In Varanasi, where temples
outnumber the temple-goers,
we sought to sully
the waters of a tired river
that exhaled the stink
of past pilgrims
with the stale mud of our
infrequent sins,
amassed over thoughtless
years.
We believed the whores,
thieves, homosexuals,
who attested the chants
of widows and priests
and plunged ourselves
into a river whose waters,
balm and sulfur
for soul and skin,
we were careful not to
swallow.
Is it strange that I
perspired in the water -
dreading the ablution
would purge my conscience
and strip me of
the redolent muck
I'd thoughtlessly amassed
over infrequent moments
when I had truly
lived?
outnumber the temple-goers,
we sought to sully
the waters of a tired river
that exhaled the stink
of past pilgrims
with the stale mud of our
infrequent sins,
amassed over thoughtless
years.
We believed the whores,
thieves, homosexuals,
who attested the chants
of widows and priests
and plunged ourselves
into a river whose waters,
balm and sulfur
for soul and skin,
we were careful not to
swallow.
Is it strange that I
perspired in the water -
dreading the ablution
would purge my conscience
and strip me of
the redolent muck
I'd thoughtlessly amassed
over infrequent moments
when I had truly
lived?
This is amazing.
ReplyDeleteYour words are very powerful... there is an amazing strength in your poetry I wish mine had.
ReplyDelete:)
ReplyDeleteYou're very kind.
the poetry is lovely, but I'd take a purged conscience everyday
ReplyDeleteImperfectness brings fear. And hence its quite natural for humans.
ReplyDeleteWho is it that you want to be and who is it that you don't?
ReplyDeleteThe edges become blunt and the lines blurred
As the ever changing identity is finally eroded
by the winds of Time.
This has to be one of your best works. The indefinite depth of it keeps the reader hanging in a limbo.