Apr 6, 2013 Original Poetry
Dancing Bells
(Honoring my Daughter’s First Ghungroo Ceremony)
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 6th, 2013
A deity smiles
Benignly down
At the offerings
And the flowers.
Indian food and chai
Compete with incense
The air is quiet
Awaiting blessing.
Today, my girl learns
What tradition is
And she turns on the
Hinge of creation
She to her teacher,
She to her teacher,
Connected by bells
Strung tight together.
Wise words are spoken.
Her teacher evokes
A sense of sweet awe
Reaching for realness.
Hot tears sting my eyes
Mine too, he whispers,
As I dab at them
With my dupatta.
The ceremony
Glows through the morning
A quiet reverence
Saturates the air
Bells on their ankles
Tender and thrilling
Quell their pressing doubts
Render them quiet.
Then, they whirl and twist
They twirl and they stamp
And turn, her young friends
And she, dancers all.
The bells ring out clear
And bright, and tender
The blessings linger
In hands, feet and hearts.
Now, she is one with
Her dancing self and
She sees where the road
Leads. She is unfazed.
She is persistent,
She is stubborn,
Reverential.
These will move her feet.
And her arms will shape
The air into song
Sculpting song into
A pattern for her days.
And her teacher’s words
Will string the small bells
Of each dance into
Bells that ring for life.
For the tradition
Comes through each of them
Through the student and
Into tomorrow.
Tags: #Life, #NaPoWriMo, Anklet bells, dance, Daughter and Teacher, Ghungroo Ceremony, Guru, Kathak Dance, tradition
Apr 5, 2013 Uncategorized
The Feather Drifted Down
©A poem by Vijaya Sundaram, June 3, 2011
Stillness. The feather drifted down.
Silently, the feather drifted.
Drifting down, without a sound
It caught my eye, held it captive.
Drifting, it caused me to suspend
All thought, emotion, sensation,
All space was there for it to bend
Into white swirls, interactive
With the air. My eyes tracking it,
The feather twirled, drifted and danced.
Grace, in space, while I, lacking it
Stayed put, all silent and in thrall.
This is what it all boils down to:
A single feather floating down
Life and death and toil come round to
A few moments spent in free fall.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Life, #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, #Space, dance, Feather, Free Fall, grace, Toil