Mother Mary's tears
cascade

As Easter approaches all the great Saints
shed profuse tears
for the Lamb of God
Emmanuel

In a world where
the flower of love is crushed under
heavy black boots
stomping with long jagged swords
through the night
And tender kisses met with
snake hisses and sharp venomous fangs

My trembling hands will forever
anoint your raw and bleeding wounds
wash your holy feet with my tears

Light a candle on Easter morning
for the world you so sought to save

Jai!
Winter weary crinkled leaves
dance on the windswept streets

Jai!
Robins have returned
their shimmering red *******
bursting with song

Jai!
Sun's long flaxen arms
gathers roses, lilies and gardenias
from our fragrant garden

Blithely, eagerly I clip clusters of spiky purple, verduous
Okinawa spinach for my lunch
adding in fuzzy bright green leaves of Thai spinach
squatting in the corner of the garden

David, AKA, Farmer Brown has certainly been busy
planting, fertilizing, cultivating a miniature farm
in our backyard

Delicate rain kisses fall lightly on my brow
and Day hides her bonnie blue face
in soft gray veils

Gathering the fresh, vibrant bounty
I feel so very blessed
surprising a garland of yellow finches
sipping water at the bird fountain
whoooosh....
lofty wings of my heart
joins them as they take off
in golden flight

Those days, Those days
in Prashanti, not a care in the world
waiting for the Lord of the Universe

Rainbow sequined saris flutter like
colorful prayer flags
in the sultry, warm breezes

Women devotees, buzzing honeybees,
breathlessly squeeze into granite window openings
outside the mandir
straining to see, hoping their adoring eyes
will be blessed by the nectarine vision of Sai Avatar

Seva Dal angels in vivid orange and yellow scarves
manage to bridle the swooning, burgeoning, euphoric
crowds with spirited "Sairam, Sairams"

O Baba
what we wouldn't give for a chance to once more
see your airborne Lotus feet floating towards us
on the golden sands of Puttaparthi

Reverently, I press my fingertips to my eyelids
taking padnamaskar
these orbs, these orbs
once gazed upon the holy sight of
Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba

My hubsy and I went for a moonlit stroll
graceful billowy branches gently ripple above us
Black swans sailing in the moonlight

Squawking sounds of katydids, crickets, frogs
sawing zzz's and occasional loud drone of
rap music cut through, punctuated the
brisk night air

As we meandered our shadows
grew taller, towering temple steeples
stretching across patchy luminescent streets

We even caught a fleeting glimpse of our
silver sillhouettes superimposed
like Milky Way gods over the heavens

I looked at my darling spouse, heart palpitating
my hand tucked cozily into his

"We are Vast Beings David," I whispered tenderly
"So much more that we realize."

The crystal ball is clouded in misty veils
but sometimes a soft wind
rattles, blowing the beaded curtains aside
and we glimpse the enigmatic, the mysterious

In one such revelatory dream:
I was dressed in a black crepe abhaya with
gold Kashmiri trim

My face shrouded in skeins of muslin cloth
there was a knock on the door,
shyly I peeked from behind my niqab

A group of friends gathered outside
encouraging me to go
out with them
Refusing, politely, I explained that I was
fasting for Ramadan.

As the dream faded, I later mentioned it
to a Muslim saleswoman whom we purchased
incense from.

Her eyes grew big as the crescent moon and star
Surprised and startled, excitely she revealed:

"We are celebrating Ramadan right now!"

Glass spheres glide
smoothly over my fingers
one shining rosary bead
at a time
circumambulating
my prayerful palms

I hear crisp swoosh of Buddhist nuns
kashaya robes
inhale resinous frankincense
from Catholic monk's
thuribles
as they circle their chosen deities

Like the earth revolving around
the Sultan Sun
trillions of incandescent solar systems
biospheres
realms and lokas unknown
swirl perfectly, sublimely round
the One astonishing Beauty
that is God

We stare starry eyed
through a colossal, powerful telescope
with eyes like moons

How fortuitous are we
to be on this heavenly trajectory
Divine Cosmonauts
spiraling mandalas
eternally orbiting
The Great I AM

Surya Lights the blazing candle in the sky
and our day begins
on a pillow of clouds my spirit
bows at His vast blue altar

In fact, gods, goddesses, earthlings
and all the inhabitants of the Cosmos
kneel and prostrate at His glorious, life giving Feet

Today Lord Surya ascends to His northernmost
temple in the heavens
Courtly tablas boom, traditional Indian trumpets blare

Sweet sticky aroma and flavors of
sesame and jaggery confection
overflow in banquet halls on earth and in Kailasa

Colorful kites, bits of starry confetti
drift downward from the celestial celebration

David and I, our hands folded in prayer
stand on the front lawn offering our salutations
to the Golden Lord

By Serendipitous good fortune, my brother Chris just happens
to pass by at this moment and stops to join
us in our Sun worship

Happy Makar Sankranti
May Surya Deva's auspicious saffron rays
bless you with Peace, Love and Prosperity

Funny, how after a long protracted illness
everything in nature is so acutely
radiant and refreshing

The fountain grass crouching near
the French trellis
shakes his lime green mane
and roars: "Good Morning!"

The little sparrow chirping his
**** off in the pin oak tree
permeates my ears with
rhapsodic melody

Golden eyes of Cape May daisies gazing
giddily up at the sun
lights up the garden

Egyptian roses swinging their
fragrant censers
march in stately procession

Divine Mother, Goddess, High Priestess
with eyes the color of sunrise reflected
on aquamarine ocean waves and sea foam
taps her healing wand over Winter's
crystal head

And the terrestrial world, all that is
mortal, morbid and subject to decay
springs to life....again...and again.....

Swami Krishna's eyes flashed
lightning bolts illumining his round, brahmin
raincloud colored face.

Igniting logs in the huge fire pit
for our ancestral puja
he chanted ancient vedic hymns,
it was a beautiful offering on
this venerable Sunday morning.

Rites for remembering ancestors
is a tradition in many cultures,
not so much in the west.

Swami Krishna elaborated on its
importance:
We thank them for the good,
for laying the groundwork and support of
our lineage.

We remember them with
love and gratitude,
he stated, wrapping the yellow and red
priestly shawl closer to his body.

Strong, musky, acrid, odor of wood burning
stung our nostrils
one by one, ritualistically we added
ghee, incense sticks, flowers, herbs
and rice to the auspicious serpentine
flames

I could sense my mother near
spicy whiff of curry and channel no. 5
mixing with clouds of smoke

A secret door slowly opened in the heavens
as a procession of ghostly relatives
took their place around the blazing havan

It was almost high noon
and Surya, the Sun God
halted His brilliant chariot
driven by 7 rainbow hued horses

Hovering mid-air over our holy gathering
He raised His Golden Hands in Blessing