Moon-Pulled Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

Our first evening in Durban,
It is a full Moon, Venus rising
From the Indian Ocean.

Tilaka had made lemon coriander soup
For all three of us: we sat
Together looking at the moon and had soup.

Suddenly she said ‘I cant see’
After some time she addressed Joti
‘I can’t see left of you: right is also blur.'

She was clearly upset. I consoled,
Harmones are the culprits, you will soon be past sixty
She (Strongly feels that I am incompetent!) grunts.

I look out of the casement
Opening on the foam of Indian Ocean
And find the Moon has become dark.

She is behind a black cloud
I could’nt guess where she is.
I remember my Tamil poem of schooldays.

Aaridum medum maduvum polaam selvam
It means wealth is like the ups and downs
The River creates on the surface of the bed.

It reminds me of Kalidas In Meghdoot
How the wheel brings has one part up
And the other down but alternately.

Tillumma is sleeping now
And Jotimma is lying below
In another bed, watching TV
But imparting emotional warmth to her Mom.


(19 March 2011/Durban, S A)