A climbing ray
builds up.
I see His face –
the cathedral of all my hopes.

 

He gives my silted-self,
A finer verge.
Courage. Faith. Vigour.
I return to my possessions – my lost goals.

 

The Tree of Life is no more –
a persistent dark bark.
Light is substantial, crown in hand:
I am roused by His blessed glow.

 

1993

                          

Geeta Chhabra