Saturday, June 9, 2007


Mother, only you
knew perfectly
the feel of his newborn hands.
How often
did you press your thumb into his tiny grip?
Did you steal kisses
of the little foot soles
before they ever touched the ground?
What of those toes,
Did your joy know any
limits at all
as you felt the happy tingle of your milk
rushing into that hungry
toothless mouth? Surely once
it must have crossed your mind
you were feeding the Lord! (Though
naturally this thought
would have been kept very quiet ...
or did you dare
just once or twice
to throw a look
at Sundaram that said: dear husband
what have we created here? Has not
this beauty
gone far beyond all reason? ... but let us
keep straight faces for our guests.

We will not dwell
on the searing grief you must have felt
when he vanished. How even an hour of that
would have seemed like fifty lifetimes.
Liberated, you may be able
to think of it, but I cannot bear to
so let us skip ahead ...
how I wish I could have seen
the look in your eyes
when he took your hand
and said: let us find somewhere else to go.
And seen the mad scrambling
of those around you
to retract their stern rules
and extend the warmest invitation
for you to remain (eternally! supremely welcome!)
in their midst,
when they realised their Master, Universe, Source
of Grace and Light,
was preparing to walk away
with you,
blessed one
who gave birth to this radiant Liberator.


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