Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Seeing-Seeding

Seeing-Seeding

©May 8th, 2014

By Vijaya Sundaram

 To exist in the world

Is to disrupt the even flow

The rhythm, the deep

Assurance of air, water,

Warmth, fire, sky, stars.

We get in the way,

Eager humans all,

While losing our way.

 

Stumbling over ourselves,

In our desperate eagerness,

Tumbling down precipices

To reach our receding goal,

We scatter hope and despair

And loss and gain

And joy and pain,

Refusing the stillness

That sits at the heart

Of an expanding universe.

 

For these I yearn:

 

To see a passionflower,

And become one in an instant,

To glimpse a hummingbird,

And whir and hum in the still air,

To lie beneath a tree

Like a simple stone,

Absorbing glittering life-light

Sun-slippery, leaf-veined greenness –

 

To catch sunlight in my mouth

Taste its lemony warmth,

To follow a darting rabbit’s flight

And send peace, murmur peace after it

To hurl myself joyfully after a ball

To skitter and skid, slip, not fall

And still hold stillness,

Like water in a cup,

Unrippled, unruffled in

Surface and depth –

 

To give, and give away,

To forgive and sieve away

Grudges, rage, sadness, doubt,

To smile at insult,

And smile at praise,

To shrug at sorrow,

And forget tomorrow.

To gaze ahead, evaporating

As I move one, saturating

Myself with affection for

All that lives and moves,

Going from water to air

And air to water,

Repeating, escaping, returning

Over and over, and over, again.

Indifferent, but loving,

Detached, but attached.

Going from seed to tree,

And tree to flower,

From flower to seed,

And seed to earth,

And back to tree,

While lightning is

Poised to strike me

Where I stand.

 

And while I yearn,

Clamoring passionately,

For quietude and stillness,

The universe will

Expand forever, rippling outwards.

Before folding back,

Multi-petalled, tight

Like a fist, and finally

Return to its atomic self,

To its minute, all-seeing,

Inward-looking, quiet,

Turbulence-ignoring,

Life-making, seed-self.

 

And I will cease to yearn.

___________________________________________________________________

The Lure

The Lure
©By Vijaya Sundaram
May 18th, 2013

How simple it is to abandon all!  How attractive an option!  Drop one’s bags, walk away, never look back, never return — this image has always haunted me.

The lure of the unknown, and the seduction of a future without any strings, without any knowledge of anyone new one would meet, without any expectations beyond what tomorrow would bring, whispers in my blood — and I want to follow that Sirenic voice.

This must be what makes a few people turn to into vagabonds and gypsies.

I’ll never be one, alas.  I like my security too much, and am too attached to my loved ones.

That, however, does not stop me from dreaming.  I dream of not being afraid.  I dream of walking, walking, with a stick holding a bundle over my shoulder, a guitar slung over my back (strings attached), a flute tucked into a waistband (one needs some air to breathe music into), a bottle to hold water, and a bowl to eat and drink from, one big book (Oscar Wilde’s complete works?  Shakespeare?), pens and note-paper, hairbrush and toothbrush in a shoulder-bag, walking towards a hill, because, surely, there must be another town I’ve never seen beyond that hill. 

But wait … even those few things I’d be carrying would be things I’ll be needing.  Ah well, one must make a few concessions to being human!

Death always awaits, however.  Perhaps, there I’ll find what I seek.

The unknown always awaits, looking over its shoulder, half-turned to face me, an arm raised, one finger beckoning, a whisper floating on the breeze towards me, but just beyond comprehensibility.

Hang on … I’ll get there eventually, my friend!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~