Bells

An odd

Turn taken,

And now the road goes by beside

Burned cities all forsaken

And the ashes of fields are crumpled into dust.

The canyon wrens

No longer fly near here

And their guiding spirits

Seem to have no wings,

A numinous cloud blocks

The lunar rays from shining

While the moon forgets her phases, just

As the sun

Is lost, setting in the cave by the sea,

When the tide

Has turned out of sight

Yet beyond the time still gone,

The dragonfly flits

Anew through rainbowed fountains;

The light of heaven sings

High on the shimmering

Branches of the holy mountains

Beyond the impenetrable night

Of hidden majesty.

“Abhaya mudra”

“Fear not” – but only follow

Ganesha,

Always wise,

With eyes

Of emerald light.

Go,

Where the black-chinned hummingbirds fly,

That host

of angels,

Who stay

Unwavering, steady on their way

Brave in the bright

Wind of dawn

Above the sea crashing long

On the rocks

Where all begins, again and yet again

Within the bells

Of Shiva,

Far along

The wave-bent coast,

In the still-sung, rising song

Of the Holy One.

In the mists of the bells of Shiva,

in the winds of the song and

The ringing of the seas.

© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2023