BY GEETHANJALI BHAS
My friend :
Do you call me
from our home
in the valley
to meet our living roads
etched here
on a thousand singing stones
Or
Are you
pacing there
near the granary
Still ;
overflowing
with the grandeur
of a grain
that rose at dawn
And mingled freely
with a hundred thousand
eyes
Each a jewel
flowing
in their being
like a fire
in the open sky
Oh! my friend
I hear your song
Since
A thousand – thousand years
And perhaps
Some more
Oh! I know you
as I know myself
Here
thinking
near a canopy
of scripts
un- inked on pot- shards
And seals
With the rhythms of life- being
And beingness
And form :
a tree
a twist
a face
Now listening
with slatted breath
to a wheel
humming
and whirling
and swirling with the clay :
A celebration
Mother
Yes : Mother
We hear you
call us
from the Indus
And Vaigai ...