Bhagirathi- Thy Name. Poem by Divya Macsuedon

The Mahadev arrested your 
Mighty Flow,
Or did he consent to let the Earth be pure?
In His meditative benevolence
Gaumukh's Ice.
A Stream Thou aren't, It's  Hidden might.

O Bhagirathi of the countless Foaming streams.
Gangotri here, Thou Goddess Supreme.
Endless pilgrims here, in Faith, do stride.
The Souls Gone; None here abide.
The Last Adieus, here, are 
Finally bid.
In whispers, alone, the chanters 
Shlokas recite.

The Souls, thus, Are Finally Set Free.
The Milky froth, the pure, yet deep.
You cleansed Them here;
O Bhagirathi. 
The pristine Himalayas, they reverent be.
In wisdom and awe, none tame Bhagirathi.

The Highest Dam, it's Lake
It's Gates.
And You? In Spate.And yet,
O Mighty Mother.
Thou didst save, The millions in the plains
From Fate.
The Kedar Deluge, and HIS Tandava more.

O Bhagirathi.Not Devprayag, Your Home.
The young Alaknanda rushed to meet,
The Sister, without You, she be Incomplete.
Ma Ganga!   O Ganga! How they chant your name.
They touch You, with reverence
Rishikesh -the name.
At Har Ki Pauri; It's  the Final Grace.
The Ego shattered, when we in Urns placed.
The Rich, The poor-For here, 'The Doors' close.

"For Thee, my reverence, O Mother Adored."

"MY OWN, "they say, And yet - Defile.
You watch in silence, never A smile.

Your Fate? Our Fate;
In Shiva's Might.
Delusional as ever, the human mind.
She came to cleanse our bodies and souls.
The chemicals -so venomous,
Our Fates our sealed.
Your Onward Journey, through torrid plains.
So oft, We choked You, Streams remained.
My head, it hangeth, in deepest shame.

Then Shiva in Repose, He remaineth unchanged.
His magnificent benevolence,
It's claimed-Won't  remain.

O Ganga, You coursed, to Yamuna, lay claim. 
Prayag and Kashi on Ghats,
They pray.
A million lamps lit everyday.
Till Ganga Sagar, You Hold them in sway.

Shiva, no more, The Benign.

Sages nod - Its time.
It's Time-When, Thou will
Wilt, they dread.
O Mute spectators. She has hath Her Stay.
She wept for Bhishma.
"Now plunderers must pay."

The Srimad Bhagvatam,
I search. I seek.
At Harsil, Your Aviral flow.
I touch Thee, I weep.
In the plains I daren't 
face Thee,
Mother Divine.

In dreams I kneel, I plead,
O Mother, stay, stay.
Debased, besmirched, desecrated. Alas! Nay.

My Mother, She turneth not.
Ascends The Milky Way.

Shaken from stupor, Thus,
In parched deserts..
We Arrive.