NOW
-
K. Satchidanandan (India)
Now, this moment,a man reaches
The ninth cloud as he listens to a flute.
A woman bends down to earth
And cuts grass.
A tree looks with pity at its falling leaf.
A cow cleans its new-born calf
With its loving tongue.
A spider gropes in the air
Wondering where it should go next.
I sit staring at the vacant page.
It is isolated events that
Bring this world into being.
Like history, being made with
Love, blood and war.
Yet somewhere the roots of
Everything get entangled:
Of blood and language,
Mountains and hooves,
Rivers and birds,
Stars and bodies.
Someone is holding up the earth and
Sky together like a bearer in a hotel
Lifting up with a single hand
plates, spoons and forks,
And walking without dropping any of them
Towards Death’s huge dining table.
My fallen hairs fly
towards Jupiter.