Obliterated footsteps speak to me
they rise from dust and longing
soar into irrigated conversations
and the small talk of small men;
there’s a canopy of chanting
hovering over the Kadawara Devalaya
plaintive beseeching and fervent vows
consecrating with divine blush
the ethos of agrarian solidarity;
the loquacious sun
titillates with humor the trees
and far away mountains burn blue
in perennial boredom;
I know that from somewhere
the Aukana eyes watch
and as the ripples come to me
for a moment I linger
upon thathagatha gaze;
I’m waiting for music
that has detoured perhaps
armies march to paddy-field and war
a saffron sweep floats by
the past conjugates with the now
retires into night
and there I stand
contemplating a defiant tomorrow
that restates the order of the earth
rearranges the sky
and divines a moment or two
with you.
