a rickshaw boy
with torn trousers
stops for rapid repairs
I am surrounded by monkeys
one jumps clear over a goat
another tugs at my hair
a guide tells me follow
begging hands reach out
a bell softly rings
beside the temple gates
around spiraling corners
each one leading in
we enter a bustling square
the stalls are piled with olives
oranges, spices and dates
marigolds piled on tables
garlands strung in the air
the tea-wallah cries out his wares
a radio blares in the distance
clanging, clanging, clanging,
ringing the sun, beating down
it’s madness and radiant sound
the heat is stifling, whirling
pigeons fly up in the air
against the blue sky above
kites are spinning and diving
hidden in gathering crowds
I catch glimpses of gentler eyes
fixing me with a stare
two brown dogs lay in the shade
beneath a flowering neem
I no longer want to be there
I close my eyes,
i vanish,
into a starlit pool
and slowly float away
temple
Smoke
the dusty dolls of the gods
stand in a line in the temple,
glaring,
their eyes outlines with khol,
shrouded in clouds
overpowering incense
The White Cow
the palace of gold and blue
stood high above on the hill
shimmering in heat like a mirage
the chatter of monkeys was shrill
in the river below elephants bathed
later that evening, so clearly recalled now,
as the sun dipped down in a pink haze
we saw a sadhu with a white cow
we followed to a tea stall
by the steps of an old temple
the cow so beautiful, gentle
its eyes lined with khol
wore a garland of marigold and a bell
that rang softly as it gazed at me
reaching my heart and casting a spell
on the temple steps we sat
slowly sipping hot tea
beneath a sickle moon and one bright star
we spoke in quiet voices
until the man and the cow both bowed and walked on
i see that cow as clearly years later
as if it was but a moment ago
i listened to the sadhu’s every word
it was the white cow i heard
it spoke only of acceptance and love
The Dreaming Path 