Author: Mahiruha

 

A few days ago, a young woman came through my line (I am a cashier), and somehow in the course of our interaction I told her that I recite and memorize poetry, especially that written by my teacher, Sri Chinmoy.  I told her that I could recite poems on the topic of her choosing.  She gave me four topics, and I recited a poem on each topic:

Faith:

The Ocean:

Patience:

Jesus Christ:

Then after I had recited these poems, she asked me a significant question.  She mused aloud, “Is it a poet’s brain or is it a poet’s heart that remembers this poetry?”

I told her that it is probably a poet’s heart, because I don’t “see” the poems, but rather my heart feels them, and my body knows them.  I articulate them with my mouth and heart, but the brain is not involved.

She said, “So it is the heart of a poet, not the mind.”

Symmetries of the Fall

Life is mystery.

My death
Is on the horizon
Like a smile.

Who can decode rain?

There is no return
Postage on
Dreams.

I wandered in circuits
Of dust
For years
Before a scarecrow
In the Midwest
Autumn
Beckoned me
With a red flag.

I embraced it
Under the evening
Stars
And the yellow light.

And lo,
The “it”
Of the scarecrow
Became you
In my arms,
The way
A circle
Of feathers
Becomes
A cardinal
In my dreams.

You placed a geranium
In my hand,
And I forgot
My emptiness,
My history.

We drifted into
A stand of elms,
Dark and quiet,
Where
My questions
Took the form
Of songs
And the patience
In your eyes
Was the only
Answer.

–Mahiruha
10 June 2023