The Path Of A Poem
A poem unfolds,
one stanza at a time
peeling away wrappings
like the components
in a machine, taken apart
for careful inspection
Slowly, at the insides
we peek, instead of intestines
An awareness is found
Holding our eyes under,
a light of scrutiny
The heart beats fast,
In a way it follows a rhythm
A rhythm I can sing a song to
A rhythm like the rain when it pours
drumming staccato beats
on the zinc
Or the whizzing sound
of the fan in a room, as the blades run,
Three brothers in circles
an arm in arm
Or the pounding in the head,
like the thump thump of mortar
and pestle, of three women heavy laden
practising the mountain dance
up down your temple
Such is the way the poem goes
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