Abode of Peace

Flower

I look around and all I see

Is the beauty in all things

Surrounding me –

The earth wrapped in silken green

Reached out to unite with the blue of the sky

The little heart of mine

Hidden inside

Is filled with joy and awe at the sight.

No mountains rise, there is no trace of the sea

No forests dense pass by ;

And yet there is so much here that touches deep inside –

The place is alive in Tagore’s tunes and lyrics,

In shadows of tall trees,

In ripen harvest of the season,

In the golden rays of the sun that touch fields softly

In the banks of the Kopai that bends gently

In the slow moves of bullock-carts,

In every grain of rice and every dew drop on leaves

In the rhythm of the bauls’ ektara

In the red soil of the narrow paths

That takes a lost soul home to its mother.

The white kaash dances in the breeze

To a tune of some unknown happiness

And the breeze takes a message with it

That brings a secret and fills me with glee

And takes away with it

All my pains, sorrows and grief

Birds fly, a child laughs,

Nothing to bind them, they are free

They do not dream, they do not have greed

All they know is a way to live

With all heart and they are happy.

My soul longs to know the way to live

As it is tired of being ground by city life

It longs to chase that bird high in the sky

Wants to run along the winding red path

To merge with the vastness of the blues and greens

Where there will never be any grief

No tears to fall or words that hurt

Where there is faith, a dream of getting back

All that was lost long ago, without knowing,

Where those little eyes wait for me

Eyes of my truest friend.

I want to meet her again,

There, in that place beyond life and death

In the deepest place of my heart

Where sorrow ceases to exist

A place I call – the abode of peace.

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3 comments on “Abode of Peace

  1. Don Wolford says:

    Fabulous. Traveling to India is on my bucket list.

    Like

  2. Thank you for leaving a comment. I would u like to explain the words you do not understand. This poem was written during my trip to Shantiniketan, a university town about 4 hours away from Kolkata, in West Bengal, India. The place is famous for the Vishwabharati University, which was established by the famous poet from Bengal, Rabindranath Tagore. Shantiniketan is also famous for Baul singers who are nomadic musicians who compose their music mainly based on an instrument called Ektara (single stringed instrument) without any fret. The place is also famous of the river named Kopai – which has been mentioned in many literary works of Bengal.

    Like

  3. Don Wolford says:

    Very interesting. I’ll have to look up some of your words. They’re not familiar to me.

    Like

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