Hanuman,
Son of the wind,
Forest-eyed,
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-
Finned
Minnows
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?
Hanuman,
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.
Soon
Hanuman,
Son of the wind,
Breath of the earth.
© Sharon St Joan
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