By Sushmita Sadhu
I travelled three leagues in search of your parable,
Gathering dusk and doubt in this radiant shell.
That chestnut bark and that pine of passion,
Fingered reveries adorn the piety of affection,
Had you been the leaf, or the bud of the wild,
My honeyed eyes would have followed you dear child.
But I behold this smoke of your doubt and rage,
And urge to fill me up as I count the full moon’s age.
This unabashed breath whispers in the tomb,
Blossoming Music in its everlasting womb.
O half-awakened child, feed on the dawn,
And from the crystal lake, rise like a swan.
Return as my faith, and rest on this soul,
Like the Night that bears her bosom to the Whole!
One day the sky shall unmount this palace white,
When the dew settles on her lids with a touch of blue, but slight.
By Sushmita Sadhu
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