Poetry by Saranyan BV

Standing in the Expanse Under the Neem Tree Cluster

I wait with a bundle of tinder logs rolled in a hessian sack.
It’s raining, the air humid, the dust in the air settled.
I wait for the pilgrims to pass, the coast town is overfilled. 
I wait for today’s angels to avail my service,
Angels who arrive with spices and groceries,
They never bring the firewood. I cook their food with love.

I stand waiting at the crossroad with a jerrycan of petrol,
The fuel’s brown looking like gold, no sediments in there,
No decisions to be made by the private car users,
Except to notice the quality of my fuel, 
And ask me if I could take over the wheels. 
I drive with love. Whatever I do, I do with love.

All this waiting is about being and the essence of being
And finding means to make ends meet; 
When the need stops, you would no longer find me 
Standing in the expanse under the neem tree cluster;
The hessian sack or the jerrycan would continue 
In the hands of another good person, waiting to learn.