Footprints Upon My Sands - Poem by Aniruddha Pathak
Man as in poor image of God is made,
His footprints of acts scarce to my heart reach;
History may have recorded his work,
I need no such printed prints him to know.
I can hear and feel him walking ‘pon me;
Let me wait till that wave rises from sea
Erasing wrinkles off my body’s skin;
And if that tide, always a ready friend,
Whilst receding back to the heart of sea,
Were to take time my wrinkles to remove,
I understand; tides oft are tamed by time.
Let then a breeze come to my help as ere,
I need no footprints, nor read them to know
How he that just walked by on me be like.
And as I know, the sea by night gets tired
Untangling the wrinkles that the waves
Imprint upon his heart, as do the clouds,
Whilst fetching vapour from the sea, from air,
Returning as rain, seasons in and out,
I too am erasing scars, there’s no doubt.
And yet, I wait and wait; oh, love to wait
For years yon count for a rare man to come,
To walk upon my pulsating bosom,
To please my eager heart, to trace footprints
In sands of time that scarce can be erased.
Man sure is made a poor image of God,
That he evolves to bring that image closer
To His; till then, tides, help erase these prints,
Or else, O breeze, O rain, wait for no hints.
As you know, sands are grained from solid rock
O’er centuries; I’ll wait setting my clock.
This poem a song of the sea on sands, is set in blank verse,
as the sands on sea that have seen man for millennia have
a lot to say. This is what they feel.
- Musings | 05.07.12 |
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