BHARAT KALEIDOSCOPE

Impossible juxtapositions.
You are not fixed.
Impossible to capture,
your escapable essence
darting away -
a flash of silver
in the impenetrable
perennial dusk of the deep sea.

Pop of shocking electric orange -
stacked fruit amidst
the faded piles of trash.

Exotic hawks wheeling
overhead
above impossibly packed
city squares.

Shrouded figues wrapped
like corpses dumped
at the beneficent feet of
incongruent shrines.

Totally different -
it has never felt so new and so old,
so completely alien.
Peacock feathers float by
like some strange dream.

Your essence,
like sand slipping through
fingers.

Indescribable,
you refuse to be pinned
by words.

Your center -
a hidden machine in a box spinning on one corner
like a cyclotron -
explosive power as yet
unknown.

How can the sacred and
profane exist like this?
Everything seems divine -
the starving dogs,
the street children layered
in years of grime, white
teeth flashing like headlights,
the professional meditating
next to the pile of trash,
the boy pissing at the bus stop.
You are so polluted, but
so different from the twin villages outside
Guayaquil on the road to Cuenca
where the garbage is just garbage
and the starving dogs are tragic.

A conundrum,
a kaleidoscope that won’t
stop moving.
Fire from friction,
jewelled colors in improbable
displays.
Constantly changing -
a chakra in whirling motion.

Pinwheel winds and the
most profound inner
silence ever known.

A messy, chaotic, exotic
party cocktail of microbes and saints.
Drink down the cocktail,
inhale the noise,
lose yourself to the crazy carnival,
and the boundaries fall away.

In the seductive dust and
faded sunlight,
in the melting piles of
garbage that almost
beg for virgin hands to
plunge in up to the wrists,
in the celebration of
secretion and elimination
and all that is human
in glorious oblivion -

We are New Divine Will and Purpose.
We are New Divine Love and Wisdom.
We are New Divine Creative Intelligence.
We are one with All,
All are One. 

Impossible Bharat Kaleidoscope,
you will remain elusive -
just beyond the fingertips
of understanding -
until the last sighing of breath,
and as my eyes widen
in my final moment,
I will look upon your face,
and I will know you.

1.17.2008
On the road from Delhi to Agra, India
Jenna Wayne/Inner Essence Poetry