Home from India: Poetry

Days cool like a bath you’ve fallen asleep in. This is a line from a poem I wrote many years ago, but it keeps coming to mind this week as the weather shifts towards fall. Other poems are surfacing also, like the poetry I wrote last October as I traveled through Bhutan and India. This time last year I was preparing to leave my family for a month of traveling. I was arranging before- and after-school care for my son (thanks Hope!), stocking up the pantry, automating bills, and making lists of lists of lists. It took some work to make it happen, but what a gift that month was!

I brought my temple
to a temple
and set my temple down.
I crossed my beams
and sealed my shades.
For a long time I was still.
And the dust settled
around me.
And the dust settled
within me.

-Punakha, Bhutan, Oct. 20, 2017

You can have more
than one wish.
Make a wish for every grain
of rice
you have eaten
on this earth.
Who’s counting?
See the rice fields,
how high they climb?
See the Buddha’s ears,
how big they are? 

-Paro, Bhutan, Oct. 22, 2017

When the monks needed gold
for the temple,
they went house to house.
Bracelets, wedding rings,
golden cups passed down,
down, down.
The people understood.
Better to shine
for all lifetimes,
than to hold something shiny
in this lifetime.

-Paro, Bhutan, Oct. 22, 2017

Ganga Ma,
river, temple,
mother, cesspool.
Like a child, I
offer proofs of love
you don’t require,
and ask more of you
than I’ve right to.
Like a mother, you
receive everything
that I am,
and specialize in
the hard truths.
Beginning, middle,
end.
Clean, dirty,
dead.

-Poole Chatti, India, Oct. 31, 2017

 

Read other posts in my “Home from India” series:

Image © 2018 Angie Makes

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