Hanuman, son of the wind



Son of the wind,




Sent to free


Entangled innocence from rusted snares,


From the bitter clawhold of Ravana,


To guide the gold-winged butterfly,


The shy, dawn-eyed doe,


The nagalinga tree


Of skylit flower,


The brave host of bears


On the oak-hallowed hill,


The bright-songed messengers, in flight,


The belled, meandering cow,


The redwoods of ancient girth,


The moon-






Of silver gill,


Out from the chasms of desolation


Of a world gone awry


Back to the far, far


Reaches of the beginning – before ever time arose


Back to the shining lake of the mountain height


Hidden unseen in the green land of the star


Where mists of joy run


Like horses on the white river, wide,


Where the spring cactus unfolds gold and red.


A day to bring the innocent out, away


In the boat of the canted bow


That fled


Across the storm-bent sea


In the gale-churned hour.


Do you remember your flaming brand


And the fire that went up to swallow


The iron-souled city of Lanka?




Savior of the innocent, hero-son


Of earth and star,


There  –  hear the call of the raven chime


From the canyon of  ill-kept time.






Son of the wind,


Breath of the earth.


Written April 3, 2012


Photo: © Sekernas | Dreamstime.com / Langur monkey




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