To Live Again
In India, I felt alive:
The air heavy on my skin,
Full of incense and wood smoke,
Bright saris and flower petals,
Spicy chai and hot curry,
Painted cows and pedicabs.
From Mumbai in the west
To Madras in the east,
Through pastoral, palatial Mysore,
Lost in another world,
Ancient, yet unknown:
At the Goan shore, we discovered the Arabian Sea,
On the road to Hubli, we wandered through the jungle,
At the Lalitha Mahal, we mellowed into evening.
On Cauvery Peak, our friends grew coffee and spices,
In Santhome Basilica, our Savior rose from a lotus flower.
I carried India home with me in a wool rug and a woodcarving:
A window of the Taj Mahal and the elephant god Ganesh,
Surrounding me with beauty and good fortune,
Beckoning me to return, to live again.