The Rules of Engaging Grief

The following poem I composed as I reflected on my life in India thirty-five years ago.

Yet to Pass

Years past I smoked
Madrasi cigars
Hand rolled by
Brown-skinned girls;

From tall dark bottles
With residue settling
Drank beer brewed by
A mischievous Jesuit;

Reclined in a seven-foot
Hot tub steaming
Tired muscles for
Competition next;

Lingered in conversation
Long into darkness,
Seeking communion,
If not enlightenment;

Rode polo ponies at dawn
Across withering fields,
Along jungle trails,
Wild monkey paths;

Trekked heaven’s domain
Amidst the Himalayas,
Drank from an ice cold green
Glacier stream long life;

Loved luxuriously,
Laughed endlessly,
Even cried in a present
That has yet to pass.

Tags: Add new tag, adventure, India, joy

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