Tuesday, 29 November 2011

Poem written some two years ago, on approaching my 60th birthday


My hairs are counted down
As I am counted up

What when they both reach zero?
An eye is on that sparrow!

So when I, ripe, fall
I will find (imagine!) the ground beneath it all:

Is there a friend who is closer than a brother?
Anyone who cares when no one is around?

Can the scales ever balance for those who are poor?
Cloudless skies, will those really be found?

Well, at least I know that he
Who up-ends tables, uses the whip,

Arranges, where the weights are imponderable
And the books can no longer be cooked

For even my hairs to be counted up
While I am gently counted down

And neither will amount to zero (imagine!)
When I can touch and kiss him, who is
the ground beneath it all.

Prabhu Guptara
7 June 2009

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