A Black Headed Oriole

 

 

My inner child

is clad in sunshine

and wants me

to put it on.

But I can’t wear a mask.

What would you do then?

Dig a burrow and hide there

dreaming raptors extinct?

My monsoon heart

brews thick dark clouds.

The stubborn child with its wand

makes a black headed oriole

out of that inky billowing mass.

I look up and see

the warbler

pecking its golden plumes

on a Neem tree.

Isn’t she a sweet note,

a Hymn itself?

Is the tree still scrawny

with the winter hangover?

Thin, slender neem leaves dance

in the breeze, I see.

It’s not breeze; His breath;

each leaf rises in joy with The Touch,

whispers the child.

As she hunkers down

I begin to relent.

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Compromise @ Poets United

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14 thoughts on “A Black Headed Oriole

  1. I think the inner child always knows best (says Alice) – i think your poem also conveys that to rejoice in our inner child does not necessarily mean that we are childish – perhaps it’s about rejoicing in the small wonders the world offers up

  2. God gets there before we do and finds a way to open the door. Sunshine, birds, even wallowing in the deep is part of it. Oh, we relent, we arrive. This is the most amazing poem! I am sitting here enjoying how you reveal this truth.

  3. My monsoon heart
    brews thick dark clouds
    The stubborn child with its wand
    makes a black headed oriole
    out of that inky billowing mass.

    Such a passionate poem, Sumana ❤
    Beautifully penned.

    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

  4. Sumana, this has to be my favorite of yours. It’s so full of wonderful, beautiful thoughts. But we do have that brilliant inner child reminding us about the Breath. Relent, Sumana, relent.
    (I wish you love, healing and peace.)

Thank You :)

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