THE BANIYA, CALCULATING SIXTY
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.
7 June 2009