A Fantasy for Bharati
Dear Bharati, finally we meet,
in a moment between two seasons,
that shows traits of both, with
Spring Ascendent, pouring her warmth
over winter’s bitter chill, thawing
frozen hearts as well as frozen grass.
We open our eyes wide to the restored
pleasures of morning light, longer days,
sweet moods. Oh, my friend, I need help
in holding a sweet mood captive – else
a bitter mood will intrude, and dispel
even these cherished spring joys.
Most times I live in a middle zone,
neither heaven nor hell, neither redeemed
nor abandoned, stuck really, no movement
in any direction. Still time weighs heavily
on me. There are others present or near-by,
but we are all preoccupied with our own
burdens of unfinished earth-affairs or
uncertain spiritual issues. The silence
is often maddening. Perhaps this is a purgatory
wherein our souls are completed, a way-station
on a highway to a higher existence, which is
not even dimly perceived. I am learning
a deeper soul-patience…
In my life I never expected a long
happiness, only moments shot through
with illumination and raised to ecstasy.
You know this from my poems. But the place
I am confined has neither illumination
nor ecstasy: it is not gloomy, it is not
bright. Poetry has no inspiration, nothing
summons me to verse –
Bharati, my friend, when you read my poems,
silently but especially out loud, most especially
to others, I HEAR THEM! My poems I hear clearly,
and yours too when you write them and share them.
And at those moments you are not just my friend,
you are the sister I never had. A brother on one side
of life, a sister on the other side, poetry links
our souls, and I feel no loneliness in death, and
I must believe you feel no loneliness in life.
You wrote of your ‘heart’s musings’ and
your ‘soul’s musings’ both carried by the wind and
‘echoed in tree’s rustlings, showered through night
moon’s beams.’ These images must have a secret passage,
a pilgrimage of poetry to the shrine of our waiting selves.
‘Eyes sparkle / Reflecting joy / Mirroring heart’s desire /
To merge into bliss.’ You see, we share these moments
shot through with illumination and ecstasy, my friend,
my sister, my poet! We have have prevailed!
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