Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
Paradiso
I went to the forest to find the hidden arrow,
the arrow straight as a sunbeam.
With this I would be armed for life.
Who stole my child?
Who placed this sadness of stolen colours
in the shelter of my lap?
The wild trees sprang up.
The mountain stepped back.
For a thousand years I dragged a net
sieving debris clinging to the depths of water
watching the night tangled with the dawn.
Who will inherit tomorrow?
Hell is a closed door denying us
the shelter of words and meaning.
The word, when it was first uttered, meant everything.
A spark fanned by the wing of sky
breaking the shape of silence
into a heartbeat, song, hope.
Most of all— hope,
To want what we want, even though it was a falling
into the hard road of angels and demons
and the intoxication of fire.
There are barriers between the living and the dead.
Sometimes the veil is transparent.
One day we will recognize each other again.
There— my friend with the ready smile, the quiet face,
the mystery of your presence granting hope, illumination.
The land speaks to us when we are grieving:
Past present future, the holy bundle of three.
Earth sky water.
I will restore the life of your failing pulse,
hold your hand, and teach you to bear grief.
Tears—-
This must be the path of tears,
this ebb and flow tugging at my heart
filling up with salt. A few saline drops
mixed in the ageless churning of the waters.
Across the sky smoke is billowing,
a flower falls on an old gravestone.
The hornets are tearing their hearts
burning in the yellow sun.
A bird sits on my shoulder, weeping.
A song of flying is floating over the valley.
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