our words tear paths
as if we are oracles
our touch gathers
courage as though
there's no law for it
mosquitoes now follow us home
knocking on our window panes
like tiny trickster castaway birds
who are also sorrowful orphans
it is yet a quiet sky
as the clouds go by
in the long intimacy
of anguish, a golden
go-dhuli dust blooms
my mother has promised us love
and it is in this clearing: quiet as--
wary as-- gentle as-- worn as-- cattle
waiting and gentling into another time
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Note: Go-dhuli, literally "dust of cows" in Sanskrit, the golden hour of sunset when cattle return home; it is considered to be a beautiful and auspicious time and is a nostalgic trope. Cows are revered as archetypal mothers (Go-matha) in Hindu-Indian culture. (I mean, that's where "holy cow" as an expression probably came from!?) Also, my mom and I have a very silly, longstanding act where we play cow and calf.
____________________________
Pic: Nu's photo of Chelli, Huck, Max, and me reading in the afternoon. (Or Chelli and I are trying to anyway.)
5 comments:
This is so very lovely. And a beautiful image with these words. Thanks for the explanation.
I never realized that about "holy cow" but it makes perfect sense.
Nice.
This is so touching, Maya!
The last two stanzas of this are so lovely. The mood and word choice perfectly create the image: I can see that softened, golden light and the patient cattle portraying the steadfast and solid love.
The word "tear" feels jarring to me in the first line, compared to the rest of the imagery and mood of the poem. Am I missing something?
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