Friday, May 11, 2012

The Wind from India


I heard the wind from India
   its cacophony of voices
   dialects and languages
   street cries and noise

I saw the wind from India
   its explosion of colors
   a rainbow streaming
   past and down my face

I smelled the wind from India
   saffron and incense
   blowing, radiating hot
   from glowing pots of iron and clay

I am washed by the wind from India
I am become the wind from India
I am the song of the wind from India


Photograph: Varanasi, the holy city on the Ganges, by Piotr Wojtkowski via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
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6 comments:

  1. JofIndiaMay 11, 2012 at 5:27 AM

    Gloriously - and authentically - captured in the moment..

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  2. Martha Jane OrlandoMay 11, 2012 at 7:23 AM

    Amazingly vibrant with imagery. Beautiful!

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  3. Louise GallagherMay 11, 2012 at 9:49 AM

    This is lovely!

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  4. AnonymousMay 11, 2012 at 10:12 AM

    i am washed in the river
    and laid on a stone to dry
    in the wind of india

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  5. MaureenMay 11, 2012 at 10:32 AM

    I have a number of friends who have spent time in India, which remains for me a complex of opposing images such as I find as I read "behind the beautiful forevers" by Katherine Boo (it's a marvelous book). The voices, the sounds, the smells, the sights... yes, they are all so strong in India, as your poem conjures them.

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  6. S. EtoleMay 11, 2012 at 4:17 PM

    I was expecting to see a photo from JofIndia ... powerful imagery in your well-placed words.

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