Déjà Vu

Déjà Vu

The sun was a vortex of lightness
In the grays of the streaming sky.
The waves on the river reflected
The shades that were churning on high.

I could see that in Queens it was raining.
In the distance, I'd seen a bright flash
And I'd waited to hear then the thunder
But I'd waited in vain for that crash.
 
For I was a passenger, riding
On the train on the bridge in its arc,
On that train that was hurtling from Brooklyn
To Manhattan’s own caverns of dark.

It had roared from the shoreline of Brooklyn,
On the rails that the columns held high,
And then it had clattered through tunnels
To emerge to that bridge and that sky.

I had heard that a storm was approaching
And I looked at that sky and that stream
And I sensed that the world was in motion—
And that this had been part of a dream.

It seemed that I’d seen this in dreaming—
That all this had happened before,
But that train and that storm and that river—
They were not in that dream anymore.
 
How wide was that gray-green of streaming—
That serpent that slid to the sea!
I looked at that wind-ruffled river
And wondered how all this could be.
 
The sky and the river receded.
We were diving back down to the dark.
Like the dream and that storm on that crossing—
This was part of my journey—my arc.
 
2016 October 6th, Thu.
Brooklyn, New York
  

Descent

    
Descent  
               
When the wind has fallen quiet,
You can look out at the sky,
You can see the fires celestial,
As they’re burning, up on high.

When the dawn is still a whisper,
You can wake, within your tent.
You can shiver and then bundle,
On your downward trek, intent.

Where the peaks rise up in splendor,
Where no eagles dare to soar,
In that white and barren fastness,
You can trek across the snow.

In the valley, by the glacier,
Where the ice is heaped and strewn,
You can breathe a little easy
And can feel the warmth of noon.

Where the glacier spawns the river,
You can drink from crystal streams.
You can walk on mountain pastures
And be lost in happy dreams.

Where the river roars down canyons,
Where the raging waters flow,
You can listen to that roaring,
And the sound, primeval, know.

In the forests of the foothills,
You can hear the tiger growl.
You can glimpse the deer and otters
And the sudden flights of fowl.

Where the hills gave way to corn fields,
Where the sky is smiling wide,
You can row upon the river.
With the current, you can ride.

In the flatlands of the delta,
Where the crops are growing green,
You can see the rice-fields shimmer
In the afternoons serene.

In the shade, among the fruit trees,
With their fragrance in the air,
You can while away the noontimes,
Or at insects, sit and stare.

You can fish in tranquil waters,
You can bathe in morning’s light.
You can watch the cows at sunsets,
And in children’s smiles delight.

You can travel to the outskirts
Of the city and its grime.
You can labor in its alleys,
And be old before your time.

You can leave at last the city,
On the river, flowing strong.
You can watch the boatmen rowing,
Catch the lilting of their song.

Where the river meets the ocean
And the vistas open wide,
You can see the sea-gulls wheeling,
You can feel the turning tide.

In the endlessness of ocean,
Where the land is lost to sight,
You can drift, across the sunset,
To the starry, starry night…

Let the ones, who are ascending,
Plant their puny flags on peaks.
To the one, who is descending,
They should listen, when he speaks…

2014 May 9th, Friday, 11:55 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
   

Immersion in the Ganges

  
Immersion in the Ganges
 
Now she has passed away – she now is past.
What’s left is memory that dims with time.
And soon this too will pass – it cannot last,
Although we honor her with rite and rhyme.
 
She fades, she fades – she fades – and then is gone.
Of her, what still remains – what does, what does?
Like the soft dawn she came, like day she shone,
Then evening turned to night – and then she was.
  
Oh sun of this bright day, may you grow dim,
But let me not forget her, who is gone –
Gone away forever, leaving those
Who knew her, loved her – blank, and woebegone,
Bereaved, bereft, bewildered, broken, bare –
But still alive – in body, mind, still there,
While she is now destroyed – is emptied, drained,
Is burnt to ashes, dust – and then cast here,
Into this river, born of ice unchained
From mountain prisons by this tropic sun –
The sun that saw her birth, the sun she loved,
With memories still of youth, in every one
That’s gathered here, recalled – as ashes, strewn
In Ganga’s waters, through my fingers run.
Here, she will mingle with the mud, and flow
Past fields and palms and forests to that one –
That Ocean, with its many, many names…
 
******
 
And as the Brahmin sings the Sanskrit chants,
And I repeat, not knowing what they mean,
There is this thing that each one understands,
Who’re here, assembled, at this ancient scene – 
  
That she, whose name we utter and invoke,
Is gone, where rites and chants can never reach –
In such a slumber now, as never woke
A mortal from, despite what scriptures teach…
 
Although we claim that these are for her soul,
These rituals truly comfort only those
Who’re still alive – not her, who isn’t whole,
Whose ashes go where this, the river, flows –
 
To sink, to scatter, into that deep sea,
Never to regather and return, alas,
To rise again with early dawn to be
The woman that she was …was …was.
 
******
  
So each of us will pass, and all regret
Is vain, except that it inform and change
How each may view the other. We forget
That midst this flow, some things will never change…
 
When you were live, we often did neglect
Your self, who is now past neglect.  Remorse
Cannot undo, nor love, too late, repair
The wreckage done.  So each must steer his course.
 
So go then to the sea, and in it dwell;
From it, we all have come, and will return.
I watch your ashes sink within the swell –
And we are left with but your empty urn…
 
You were a light, that now has fallen dark,
A song, whose lilt we shall not hear again.
In vain, we now will look, and search, and hark;
For you are gone – and free, from all your pain.
 
Babui (Arjun) Janah  
2006 July 1st, Sat.
Staten Island, New York. 
(lightly edited 2015 January 18th, Sun.)
  
In Memoriam
Monua Janah
1959-2004