Beloved David
Seven years have flown
by on the wings of a swan
our wedding whites hang in the
pooja room closet
fresh and beautiful as
that first kiss
unveiled

With weak knees and stars spilling
from our eyes
we pledged our Love
before God
while angels tossed
rose petals and white rice

Seven years an eternity
we weathered the storms of
our ego
and cherished the droplets of love
that fell compassionately

Dearest Heart
On the auspicious
day of our wedding anniversary
I garland you again
and again
and again

Sunrise cherry blossom petals
swirl and dance at the compassionate,
adorable feet of the Goddess Kuan Yin

Smiling temples hang like lanterns
from dragon faced cliffs
drifting gently through
pastel terraced clouds

"Merciful Mother
how do we dare to
measure the immeasurable
or calibrate the infinite?
Mortal minds cannot
calculate what is
divinely incomprehensible."

Emerald eyes flash in the
mesmerizing, stormy mist
of Maya

Quan Yin's snow lily hands
wipe away our suffering
soothe our furrowed, fevered brows
Her words fall into pining hearts:

"The body is a temple
you are a projection of love.

Love the Earth, love the air
love the water, love the fire.

Love the part of self that is of the ethers."

A spray of sparrows
ascend from the seed splashed
garden floor
perching high in the delicate branches
of my heart
together we warble our
Ode to Spring

Spicy Concador lilies open
their fragrant parasols in
curly vernal tresses

Jasmine petals tucked between
the crease of her ample *****
wafts deliriously
making us all a wee bit tipsy

Sticky sap of love oozes
from secret orifices and
long slender tree limbs

Hibiscus donned in frilly
Easter bonnets and climbing
red swashbuckling Don Juans
dance around Her graceful ankles

The garden is suddenly
So alive
So very pregnant

Zeppelin shaped dragonflies
buzz softly past our upturned lips
Spring's milk and honey kisses
showers the earth blessing our
burgeoning Spirits

Morning dove light peeps
through satin, white window curtains
gently caressing my face
with long amber fingers of Aten

Eyelashes flutter, tiny black feathers
spread their wings
my eyes, twin suns rise
in splendor

I watch from an ancient throne
suddenly realizing:
I AM HERE

Shimmering peacock hues
ripple across the iridescent atmosphere
succulent flavors of a new day overwhelm
my palate as I gulp down each raw, fresh
insatiable experience
bursting forth in plumes of color,
scents and sensation

Yet in the midst of it all like a
clarion bell ringing from a Buddhist temple
Clearly I observe:
I AM HERE

My lover clasps me
to his burning breast
I feel warm breath in my ears
and a warm teardrop splashes
against my ruby cheek
"O sweet boy will you love me forever?"

Spring rains flow into Summer vacations
Winter snow buries Autumn petals
Unaffected My Soul calmly declares
I AM HERE

My breath is shallow
the bubbly stream of life
has dammed up
heavy black velvet drapes
slowly close over a starry landscape
you grip my cold, steel blue hands
and stare into my faraway eyes
your words fall on a distant shore
where roaring tiger waves
pull me out to sea

And although all appears lost and forgotten
Undiminished I remember:
I AM HERE

"Are you real?" Ravi whispered hoarsely.
Shyama the Mataji from the Yoga Shakti
ashram in Melbourne, smiled,
"As real as any of us," she replied.
Tenderly she tucked warm blankets around Ravi
as he slept on the cold, concrete, cement
steps of the Hindu temple.

Now it all seemed like a mirage to him, a fading dream.
Ravi anxiously waited for David's dark blue van.
Today he was finally leaving the austere environment
of the Buddhist Temple. New born vistas were
blossoming before his astonished eyes.

That morning he had broken the news to his mother.
"Mom I am coming home in a few days!"
His mother gasped with delight on the phone,
nearly swooning. She had just engaged in a
week long sadhana of intense prayers and
pujas in Bangalore pleading for the return of
their only son, Ravi, to their loving arms.

Soon, David and Ravi scooted down the
road waving goodby to the Monk and fellow
Buddhist practitioners. Ravi breathed a deep
sigh of relief. Everything was going so smoothly.
Later in the day I met David and Ravi for lunch.
Ravi had a slightly dazed appearance on his face.
So much had transpired in the past year. It was
as if he had been reborn. Each baby step he took,
God was there urging him on, catching him if he
seemed unsteady or unsure, infusing him with
fortitude, strength and great love.

I asked Ravi if he planned to say
goodbye to Shyama, the Mataji at the ashram.
Since time was pressed he decided to say farewell
in a phone call.

We wrapped up our lunch, David had errands to run,
so I took Ravi in my car. On our way home
we stopped at Walgreens to get some
chocolates for his Mom. We noticed a
woman pulling out of the parking lot.
"Oh My God!" Ravi exclaimed,
"That's Shyama!" We dashed over to her car.
"Ravi's leaving!" I gushed. Shyama Ma
got out of her car, gently embracing Ravi
and blessing him. We chatted briefly, then Shyama left.

Ravi and I stood there gawking at each other
in bedazzled ecstasy.
We both could feel the Divine Hand of God
showering us with His astounding leelas.

We resumed our errands and made our
way back to my house. Rama, our
inquisitive cat greeted Ravi rubbing his
furry little head against his feet.
Ravi relaxed, settling down on the wine
red couch in our front room. We flicked on
the TV. Ravi stammered like an innocent child,
"I haven't watched television in years!" He looked
at me with a befuddled grin, "I still can't believe
this is all real."

The weekend flew by and soon Ravi
was standing at the Check-In counter of
the airport preparing to fly home to
Bangalore, India.
"Ravi," I said softly, "this morning I had
a dream with Sathya Sai Baba."

"Oh really?" Ravi said excitedly,
"Please tell me about it."
I related the dream to Ravi:
I was sitting at a table, I believe my husband
and another man was on my right.
Swami was seated across from me.
He had such a beatific, radiant countenance.
I gazed at our glorious Sai, love surging
through my heart.

An attendant came over and poured juice
into two glasses. I said,
"Please give this to that man first. The attendant
moved the two drinks over.
Swami looked at me with a very
happy expression on His holy face.

As I finished describing the dream,
I said to Ravi, "I think Swami was
letting us know He is pleased with the
service rendered to you."
What a wonderful blessing.

Ravi shoved a package of Pizza flavored
crackers into his Carry-on bag.
David and I watched as Ravi trekked
through the security line of the airport,
his eyes glistened with thankful tears.

We both snapped pictures with our
cell phones of our sweet friend and
blew kisses which he eagerly caught,
a pristine beginning, a magnificent ethereal
bridal bouquet glowing on the rose pink
threshold of an extraordinary new day.

Ravi gratefully settled down on the cottage bed. It seemed
like centuries since he had slept in an actual bed. Up to now
he’d slept outside and on the thinly carpeted floor of a
Buddhist temple.

In fact, Ravi was very thankful to be alive after suffering
a serious stroke and subsequent amnesia for almost 3 years.
He was discovered sleeping on the steps of a Hindu temple
by a kind priest, named Swami Krishna.
After several inquiries, Ravi was finally given refuge by
a compassionate monk at a local Buddhist temple in Melbourne.

When my hubby David and I first met Ravi there was
an instant connection.
His humble, soft spoken nature touched our
souls as he shared his heart wrenching story. During the
period of his stroke, he lost almost everything,
most of his possessions, his wife and his memory.
Wandering the streets of Melbourne desolate and
forsaken by man, he was never forsaken by God.

It was a beautiful night, stars shimmered above the
colossal golden Buddha statue. As Ravi related his story,
David offered to help him recover his life. We all prayed
fervently to Lord Ganesh to remove all obstacles on his path.
In the coming months, Ravi and David were able to piece
together the fragments of his shattered life.

Marvelously, Ravi was also able to connect with his
parents in India who had not heard from their only son
in three years! Imagine the relief, joy and
ecstasy when they heard his familiar voice.

The other day we invited Ravi to our house for lunch.
Entering the puja room, we made sure to offer
thankful prayers to Lord Ganesh. The huge photograph
of Sai Avatar illumining the puja room smiled benevolently
at our precious guest.

Ravi chuckled almost tearfully when he told me he had
finally gotten his own bed. He recalled in the past how
he had purchased a $4000 bed for his ex-wife and
now he was so blissfully grateful for this simple cot.

As I reflected on Ravi’s story I thought to myself how
unpredictable life is. Wealth, property, spouses,
everything in this world is subject to change and loss.
It is so important to wake up from this
long, arduous dream and embrace the beautiful,
golden, eternal kiss of God and realize who we are now.

You shower me
dripping, drenched in
dewy jewels
of Your heart

My Ruby Love
with sapphire complexion

The embossed gold hem
of my sari swirls
ecstatic feet dance
zoetic
voluminous sufi circles
around the
greatest treasure
we can ever imagine

Near the lake of my
rippling, silver tongued mind
You play Your enchanting flute

So that all I see is
Your alluring Eternal Reflection
throbbing
in crystal clear depths
of Self

White like the North
and the cold places on the earth
my great grandfather was fond of
over-proof *** and
caribbean sailor blue waves

His Nigerian goddess bore him
nine children
pretty little barefoot toffee skinned children
scampering through sugarcane fields
and tall tropical grasses
the lilting sound of their voices
playing on balmy breezes

My Aunt Glo remembers him well
strolling about with his switch and
stiff upper English lip
he governed the immense rural
Jamaican plantation in St. Elizabeth
around the end of the Nineteeth century

Everyone called him Pupa and his
wife Muma

I don't know much about Muma
except that her mother was an
enslaved person and that she
had to tolerate the insult of ritually
hiding her mixed children when
Pupa's mother, Lady Bush
flounced into town with her entourage

There is an old photograph of
the two of them:

Muma in white frock seated,
her eyes drooping brown sparrows
Pupa with his switch, pocket watch
and far away eyes

Beloved
Cup your azure hands
blow the little spark
embers of You
into full Awareness

Radiant Self
illumine the
very tears, kisses, smiles
that drop like suns
from my eyes

kneeling at the altar of my
heart You have lit
an eternal flame that cannot be
extinguished

save me blessed One from
the cold black ashes
dungeon darkness
of another life
another womb
I pray…..