My Prayers and His
God lived once
In His youth and mine
Flying kites and dreams alike
Our kites soared higher
Just as dreams did
Without the need
For string nor sleep
Young God played truant
From life and rules
Just as I did
From system and schools
I never attended His numerous follies
And He dwelled less on mine
But somewhere someplace without our knowledge
Our prayers must have turned hymns
Our hymns tossed mountains
Off their roots of fear
They twisted streams
From front to rear
Storms stopped short on their tracks
If our hymns ever crossed their paths
We both laughed a little bit
To watch our prayers perform their feat
He and I lived together
Watchful yet careless
Growing and believing
In human and holy prowess
It been a while
From the days of yonder
My kite flies low and dreams asunder
I cant say how much
He flies kites these days
Because our strings would have
Sure touched in ways
My adult hymns are now
Careful and long
I’m sure He occasionally
Does sing His song
His brow crumples furrowed
As it mirrors mine
We both lie frozen
In the fatigue of time
1 comment:
From: Binod Nayak
Date: Thursday, October 9, 2008, 12:35 PM
Julie:
I have read quite a few of your poems by now. And I have always wondered why they are so beautiful!
Is it something to do with the themes you choose, or is it to do with how you present your ideas? Or is it to do with your choice of words and how you juxtapose them? Obviously all this matter a great deal in bringing a poem to life. I believe, even to come up with the right words to place in a given context, a poet has to go through an empathic transformation within herself or himself -- that captures the gestalt, i.e., the whole being of the poet. Even that would not explain why your poems have a great deal of appeal to me. The conclusion that I have come up with has to do with the sincerity and intensity with which you write your poems that captures the colors of your imagination. The energy in these poems are tremendous because I believe you do not write poems to order. And I also believe, they are born out of your experience at an intrinsic level.
I read both the poems with a great deal of admiration. One of the stanzas from the first poem that struck me as rather beautiful is the following.
"It has been a while
From the days of yonder
My kite flies low and dreams asunder
I cant say how much
He flies kites these days
Because our strings would have
Sure touched in ways"
In the second poem, your coinage of the phrase "I watch him watch himself" is rather a fitting tribute to Mausa. I wonder how many of us "watch ourselves" as we put on the "layers of life" every minute -- every second -- as he does? No wonder, he has been able to build an edifice of a literary castle that has been crafted with such care.
Thinking about Mausa, I fondly remember the days that we spent with him in 2006. The power of his incisive discourse is extraordinary. And thinking about Mausi, I still remember when she spoke at Naresh Babu's house with such charm and penetrating arguments that I cannot forget. I wish you were all here in close proximity....
With love and kind regards to you all,
Bhaina
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