Sitting on the Porch after Puja
Written after a puja with Vinnuacharya in Kalamazoo, February 2004
Sitting alone in the stillness, loving the cold hard bench,
Embraced in the pristine perfection of His awesome formless form.
Crisp breeze caressing my face – a kiss from my beloved.
Trees dancing above, swaying to the rhythm of Rudra.
Dripping sounds of snow and ice,
Punctuation marks of watery sacredness.
Wind chimes on the porch next door,
A metallic five-tone accompaniment for each windy drip.
Suddenly, sirens sound their screaming dominance,
Foretelling the unfolding of yet another human drama of pain and impermanence.
Reluctantly I leave this wintry performance of contrast and sound.
Opening the door I return to yet another dance of Shiva,
My Shiva Nataraj.
Embraced in the pristine perfection of His awesome formless form.
Crisp breeze caressing my face – a kiss from my beloved.
Trees dancing above, swaying to the rhythm of Rudra.
Dripping sounds of snow and ice,
Punctuation marks of watery sacredness.
Wind chimes on the porch next door,
A metallic five-tone accompaniment for each windy drip.
Suddenly, sirens sound their screaming dominance,
Foretelling the unfolding of yet another human drama of pain and impermanence.
Reluctantly I leave this wintry performance of contrast and sound.
Opening the door I return to yet another dance of Shiva,
My Shiva Nataraj.