Poetry

Water

God to me, is like water,

Taking the shape of the container.

Sustaining the spirituality of its vessel.

But for each, in a unique way.

 

Rigidity is not its attribute,

Water is holy, not holier than thou.

Water flexes muscles to make me elastic,

Flows my soul to destinations

That the journey was never about.

 

Challenging, ‘climb up to my level,

Every ripple on your soul is accepted

It won’t disturb my depths.’

 

Two thirds of earth is water

Two thirds of the human body is water

We are reservoirs of fluid notions

Everything is mutable.

Water makes us flow.

 

Evanescent hues. muddy banks

Of bracken, abandoned for crystal

Cascading waterfalls of abandon,

Oily blue black vellum of mystery at dusk

Turn shell pink silken peaches as morning breaks.

Water allows change.

 

Still burning silver mirror at midday

Grows softly blue, glossier as day recedes

Surrendering to crimson revolution reflecting

Burnt orange dew. Locks of  fire

Flicker from its sinuous serpentine belly

Water the chameleon, douses flames

But also showcases them.

 

At dusk it drapes emerald hues

In glittery charcoal black

Sassy primordial diva of the night.

Water captures and captivates light,

Holds a spectrum, rain and rainbow,

Joy and sorrow, waves of every ilk.

Water is resilient, unbreakable, integral to life.

 

Offerings of strength and solace.

My chalice still full, though thirst quenched,

Merciful bountiful as a mother.

For wasn’t nascent life

Nurtured in oceanic beds?

 

A rowboat, bobs upon the waves

From another time, the last hurrah of Viking pyre

Carries a dead warrior over Lethe to Valhalla

Water resurrects, resuscitates.

 

                                                                                    ~ Amrita Valan 

                                                                                             Bangalore, India

One Comment

  1. Brilliant, Amrita!

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