Ahh! India, land of exotic eyes and spices,
I once inhaled your pungent fruits.
Your dark mysteries beguile the weary traveler.
They who seek your fragrant charms
Are boiled by your heat,
Until the zephyr breeze cools the brow.
Starved for the scent of your lush blossoms,
We sup deeply of you.
I sometimes yearn for your ancient exotic secrets
The lilting voices of your virgin brides,
The intoxicating sounds of your music.
I moved across your sleeping pregnant rivers
Snaking slowly over your belly,
With fear in my heart I drove up your mountains
To the cooler places, and strolled;
Looking down on the shimmering air
Rising from your drowsing plains.
I wandered through solid marble palaces from your past,
Stood in awe of your painted temples
Packed inside with swaying elephants and chanting,
The secret rituals whispered by the holy lips
Of the living descendants.
I trembled in the chaos of
Your bustling streets all a chatter,
With the non stop of the flip flop
Soles going somewhere;
Impatience announces itself in your car horns.
A solitary snake charmer
Sweating and swaying,
Embroiled in the coils
Of your arms,
Near the Red Tower
Charms people passing by.
India Gate draws the eye
Into your womb,
Yet the metal bars spurn us
For our insignificance.
Above the smoky streets
Above the turbulence of humanity,
As the Sun transforms to pale orange
In the turbulent cooling evening air;
The kites dart from space to space
Echoing with colour, the laughter
Of the brown fingered children
That create the dance.
On the sleepy streets
As the dusk dustily settles and sleeps
The squirrels quiver,
As the jackhammer’s shiver
Repairing the wearing and tearing;
In the cool
Of a night
Author: Berni Mac
© Nov. 2010