Tempest

Tempest                                                                                                
 
Kitty put the kettle on in the dark
bare dak bungalow under orders
 
from the tour guide, shotgun rider,
nary a word spoken the whole, long shebang;
 
a tempest brewing in Your little teapot
soon to rattle windows around the world –
 
forerunner winds tousling Your hair,
lifting Your garment’s edge –
 
earth bowing at hallowed feet; masts in range
bursting into ecstatic flames –
 
the kettle’s increase rattling
above Your steady blue fire. 
 
Years later, (Your wares taken to market),
dismissing Your donkey
 
with a slap on the rump, carted up  
to that lying-down darshan – seven centuries’ rest –
 
as the consequent storm breaks and flashes
above Your body, carrying out,
 
faithfully, one hundred percent,
Your lifetime of work so artfully arranged.
 
O child of God, doesn’t it make perfect sense?
Seek shelter in the One Who created the storm.
 
                              (from A Jewel in the Dust, 2011)