Resurrection

  
Resurrection
   
It’s said¹ that, close to solstice, Jesus, born

To Mary, lay within a manger, there

In Bethlehem, in ancient Palestine.

It’s also written in the Gospels that,

At Easter, he was crucified – and then,

From where he lay, he rose – as Christ, reborn.

And is this true or not?  I cannot say.

So many myths and truths have mated, mixed,

With men, who’re born to women, turned divine…

But resurrection is an ancient theme –

And one, in which we gladly would believe.

We harvest seeds, from plants that die, yet live.

And each who dies has left a seed behind,

Be it from loins issued or from mind.

And if that grows or not, depends on soil.

But water, air and sunlight too, it needs.

And if these all are granted, lo, behold –

As Jesus rose from dying, so does each.

2013 December 25^th, Wed.
Gregorian Christmas Day
Brooklyn, New York 
  
Note: 
  
1.   The actual day, month and even year of Jesus’ birth is unknown.  From the accounts in the Gospels, it was during a season when shepherds were still out with their flocks and a census was being conducted.  If the climate in Palestine was similar to that which now prevails there, with cold, drizzly winters and temperatures occasionally dipping below freezing, this points to a season other than winter, thus excluding December.
  
So the choice of December 25^th (which currently falls on the Gregorian January 7^th in the uncorrected Julian calendar still followed by the Orthodox churches) may have been a compromise with paganism, or a co-opting of the pagan winter-solstice festival.  
  
Similar accommodations mark much of traditional Christianity, including the core belief in Jesus’ resurrection and divinity.  So this Christianity may be thought of as a confluence of Hellenic (more generally, Indo-Perso-European) cultural and religious outlooks, beliefs and customs with those of the monotheist Hebraic stream.
   
The latter may be represented, somewhat more faithfully, by current Orthodox Judaism and much of Sunni Islam.  Some Protestant branches of Christianity moved, during and after the Reformation, closer to these and away from Catholic and Orthodox (including Armenian, Coptic and Ethiopian) Christianity, as well as most other previously dominant Christian Church traditions.

   

At Springtime

  
    At Springtime

A tree is white with flower,
    Another's tender green.
And yet another's waiting
    For season soft, serene.

At threshold, Spring is knocking
    As Winter bids goodbye,
The little birds are chirping
    And laughter's in the sky.

At curbside, lies a sparrow
    That's bleeding from her neck.
Her head, alas, is missing,
    Her body is a wreck.

But who, at her, is looking,
    On such a glorious day,
When clouds above have parted
    And April hints at May?

The days are slightly warmer,
    The tulips rise up, red,
And there's a new beginning
    For what appeared as dead.

So when will you be coming,
    Who left in wintertime,
To join with us in singing
    At Resurrection-time?

The body's gone, the spirit
    Is wandering, some will say.
As winter ends, this April,
    The Jews and Christians pray.

The Jews remember Egypt
    And their insistent God.
The Christians say their Jesus
    Rose up and is their Lord.

But since I'm not a Christian
    And even less a Jew,
I often wish, at springtime,
    The one, who'd rise, were you.

Some weeks ago, at Holi,
    The colors flew in Hind,
And earlier, in Persia,
    The bonfires waved in wind.

The spring is like the morning,
    The summer like the day,
And autumn's like the evening,
    When daylight fades away.

And then, there is the winter,
    In colder climes, like night.
And that is when you left us.
    You always did what's right.

So though there's condemnation,
    The ones, who knew you well,
Remember that, for justice,
    Our honored martyrs fell.

And you preserved your honor,
    At price that was unjust.
And so, at every Easter,
    In grace, we put our trust.

For parents lost to falsehoods,
    How many children cry!
For Clan or God or Mammon,
    How many more will die?

How many are the parents,
    Through aeons stretching dim,
Who lost their precious children
    To Man's or Fortune's whim?

Will there be Resurrection,
    As ardently believed?
This sparrow, lying headless,
    By traffic, was deceived.

If there's a resurrection,
    This sparrow then will fly.
And you will then be smiling,
    And so, perhaps, will I.

You mother and your father,
    The one you took for spouse,
Will be, with you, united,
    In that ethereal house.

    Babui / Arjun
        2011 April 20th, Wed.
    Brooklyn  

On Such a Night

    
On Such a Night

    

On such a night, with moonbeams gliding

Through the windows, we

Lay side by side, as scents of rose

And jasmine mingled free.

Now once again, we see that moon,

And a sky that's filled with stars.

The flowers in their vases swoon,

And men still wage their wars.

One by one, the flowers die,

And so do we, my love.

But see -- this moon that rises, sets,

These stars that shine above.

Though one by one, the flowers droop,

Whose scents and colors fade,

On every morn, the sun will rise

And there'll be light and shade.

When you and I are memory,

A dim, receding spark,

The sun and moon and stars will whirl

Through skies of light and dark.

The clouds that race on surging winds,

The mists that rise at dawn,

Our brethren, these, will rise and race

When you and I are gone.

And when our memories have passed

Away like drifting mist,

Then lovers new will witness still

Such nights, by moonlight kissed.

And in their turn, the sun and moon

And stars will pass away,

And long before, this life on Earth,

As fleeting as the day.

But yet, on a planet distant, where

The moons may number three,

Such beings still will rise and mate

As equal you and me.

Babui / Arjun

2010 December 4th, Sat.

Brooklyn

      
On Such a Night--II