RITES
for Lord Ganesh
 

Watching a shadow cast
on a gate locked shut

The river looks wistful now
This is a time of pardon

The moon is being born
slowly rising a hungry face
out of a cloud

Her image wobbles in the river

Then a dry wind blows hard
reviving the embers of a fire

Now the steps have softened
A holy man cups the river
in ash smeared hands
His yellow garland tapping the water

In the twilight
Temple bells are spreading tales
of man and god married

Men are launching
frail paper boats
that crisp with fire
and sink crackling in the water

It is lightly raining

You can hear the river's ancestral spirit purring