1.At the Dinner Table
On the thick
mutton gravy, thickened
more by her love, touching
my tongue, I spring
from my spring-less chair and imprint
lip prints on her tired cheeks.
Inside, in her
dried garden, dried on
giving and giving, all
she could as much
as she can, fresh
springs sprout, soils
replenish, seeds
germinate and plants
and flowers fill;
While her Face, adorned
with sweat, sweat of
priceless, unsung sacrifices
of a female Atlas, shouldering
her world, sparkles
like a sunflower in
the summer's rain.
2.Long-Distance Phone Call
Her distant Voice
when kiting
my name is never ever
a formless voice but
a gentle hook that
slides through
my ear and throat and
pulls that tiny
piece of heart,
that wakes
not to beauty
or gold,
to jump and squat
and jump and squat...
like a tide to
a far away moon.
3. At the Temple
Sandwiched between other devotees,
we tread like a huddle of penguins,
towards the inner sanctum sanctorum,
where Durga adjusts her silk and gold
after her early morn Sandal Abishegam,
behind a sacred screen of golden silk.
On the screen's recess, the air
creams with andante of temple bells,
uplifting Todi raga of nadaswaram,
recorded hypnotic repetitions of Om,
Sanskrit cantillation of main priests,
and condensed prayers of devout men;
While we, like all others heighten
toes, penetrate air and adjust necks
till our sight locks to Durga's glittering
face, illuminated by over a hundred
tiny flames. There, She shows me
her God; I show the stones, Mine.
Pradeep Dhavakumar
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/three-kisses-for-mom/
