By the Ocean
Above my rooftop
red bricks laced with
green moss
topaz shine of Seven
Sages
and galaxies of
untouched dreams,
she rode the golden cart
pulled by Mahadev’s own
snow white bullocks…
From the delicate
arc of the thatched
rooftop
she leapt like a stag
and stepped onto the
main street.
‘Careful, Mata,
careful,’
I pleaded, panic
shriveled.
‘Look at her, how strong
she is,
in spite of her age,’ I
tell Shakti,
as we watch from the
rooftop.
She gains poise,
elongates
her gaze and saunters
onto
the stretch of green
fields
across the village…
Shaken by the drone
of the central heating
boulder
I woke up, feeling
a sudden rush of the
youthful energy
she spent with us and
then left,
making me dream of her
in this strange steely
island
by a sopping wet shore…
From A Blizzard in my Bones: New York Poems
