A View from Our Room

Last evening,
Though the times were serene,
Showing generous margins of colour —
My mind had taken the right
To turn into a thousand seagulls,
Shrieking inwardly:
Bleeding to death my failing peace.
The ragged tug and pull went through all
Of unlovely night’s deceptions.
On bended knees, my silences spoke stubbornly
To my Maker: to show a miracle
To appease my state.
But no miracle came.

This morning, rising to the kiss-colours
Of sunrise,
My rapid eyes drew great wonders
Through our window —
Winning me to be fully awake!
Passing shimmers of blue skies,
Caught my heart to notice:
The unclothed bay’s shy waters,
So greenly emerald and self-sustained.

Close to these lovely images:
Barren tracks reserved in speech,
Yet, always beautiful in their nakedness,
Bathed in great pride,
Reflecting watery mirrors of ripples,
Coming like fulfillment from the bay.
The unchanged beauty seemed like our own planet.
Only one: one of you is born!
Only one: one of me is born!
And here, each of us is engrossed
In the cosmic mystery’s present tense.
The observable in all respects,
Made evidence of permanent miracles.

I rose with no other prayer,
Other than – a cry of repentance!

For Ved
The InterContinental Hotel, Abu Dhabi
1998

Geeta Chhabra

From the book: No Journey Ends by Geeta Chhabra