by Bibhu Padhi (August 2018)
Staffa, Fingal’s Cave, William Turner, 1832
Caves
The meditative caves wherein
the ancient rishis offered their prayers
in the dark, are like the nights.
We close our eyes.
Whose breath comes in
and goes out, like life?
In the midst of speechlessness,
I invite my ancestors.
They are here, almost
touching me, their
light breath falls on my
brown skin, digs out histories.
The caves are here, will
always be there.
Deep under the sea water,
far from the diver’s mask.
Whose wandering voice
takes hold of me wherever I am?
Who plays his dark games
far inside the body’s mysteries?
Boat with Sail, Nikolaos Lytras, 1923
Boatman
Everyone who moves about
this place, will see you
standing on your boat, waiting
for your invisible passengers.
What do you do when
you are lonely, who
do you seek on this
expansive sea of tiger grass
and thick bushes?
I come here every day, watch
you watching the birds,
like an efficient bird-watcher.
What else do you do to keep
yourself less lonely, just
a little better than yourself?
Today you are not here:
I heard that someone
stole your boat
even as you were on it,
with the long rod that would have
guided you to the invisible shore.
____________________________
Bibhu Padhi has published eleven books of poetry. His poems have appeared in distinguished magazines throughout the English-speaking world. He lives with his family in Bhubaneswar, India.
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