The Presence

  
The Presence
 
When trapped within a building, in the innards of a city,
I’ve seen, afar, a window – and, attracted by the light,
I’ve walked up to that window – and looked out at the sky.
And that for me was healing, although I knew not why.
 
In past peregrinations, in the course of work and life,
I’ve wandered in the wilderness, but mostly in the cities.
And while in urban gullies, where the laws abetted crime,
The trees and sky would beckon, as I mucked about in grime.
 
And pausing by a window – or while trudging home at dusk,
I’d see the tree-leaves moving – or I’d hear them rustling low.
And pausing then and looking – or listening to the sound,
I’d sense again that presence that links the sky to ground.
  
We’re each a part of Nature.  The tides and currents flow
Through minds and hearts and bodies.  They scour these vessels clean.
But when we’re isolated, from Nature and from men,
We’re each beset by demons and grow demented then.
  
The king within his palace, the prisoner in the jail,
The worker in her cubicle – can know a living death...
You can drive a man to madness, if you lock him in a cell.
Release him in the forest.  If he lives, he’ll soon be well.
 
2014 September 25th, Thursday (Jewish New Year)
Doctor’s office, Chinatown, Manhattan
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For a translation into Bangla (Bengali), please
see টের (T'er–Sense/Perception)