The Body Of A River

 The Body Of A River

Dark is the heart,
dark the vessel ,
dark the waters of Yamuna.
Dark was the lover playing on  the flute
in the darkest of the hours of the night.

On an evening Radha laments
for her lost love on her banks.
Time stands still on the banks of Yamuna, she the witness of all.
Yamuna, a river given to hold
perpetual monuments of love and loss.

Evenings darken the shadows ,
ripples dance.
Stray vessels and solitary boats ply
and that's the only effort time makes
to ruffle her heart in a gentle surprise.

The full moon knows her secret passion
when she briefly opens her heart.
The dome and the minars of Taj
and the Moon streaming her light
and the Moon streaming her light
for Yamuna to carry the sacred offering
a moment's recall.

Otherwise the life on her banks
is of this world, dark and sedate.
Her gorges ,deep, vortices unseen,
do not dare to challenge her waters.
Her peace is sorrowful,
exuberance once, and as she flows,
whirlpools turning into turbulence,
turbulence anger, anger into silence,
and silence peace.

Yamuna flows, her heart expands,
she has no lament.
The notes she heard
played on the flute by the dark lover Krishna
for the fairest of the beloveds in all the lore of love
are still flowing in the ripples.

Separation from the source is the truth she knows.
In the evening the vessels come to rest,
stay anchored on her shores.
A fragile sailing boat, a straggler in the twilight shines
its lanterns glimmering in the faraway moonlight,
and the boatman singing a lonely song,
tinted by the moonrays, caught by chance.

Allahabad, the Godly meeting-place
where she merges in the overpowering embrace
of her fair, exuberant sibling of the mountain's origin,

the majestic, vociferous sister, Ganga.

but her dark interior is unsubdued
even as the shadowy waters are reminiscent
of their life as they traversed
over terrains of times past.
Yamuna is hard to reconcile.

Here merging with Ganga,
not a harmony of kindred souls,
more of an enforced meeting of contrary streams.
That's the end of a river , far too early before she reaches the sea.
The boatman plies the vessel as the walls of the fort darken,
lanterns begin to shine,
and you say adieu
An anguished farewell,
as the moon spreads its compassionate light
its lanterns glimmering in the faraway moonlight,
and the boatman singing a lonely song,
tinted by the moonrays, caught by chance.

Allahabad, the Godly meeting-place
where she merges in the overpowering embrace
of her fair, exuberant sibling of the mountain's origin,

the majestic, vociferous sister, Ganga.

but her dark interior is unsubdued
even as the shadowy waters are reminiscent
of their life as they traversed
over terrains of times past.
Yamuna is hard to reconcile.

Here merging with Ganga,
not a harmony of kindred souls,
more of an enforced meeting of contrary streams.
That's the end of a river , far too early before she reaches the sea.
The boatman plies the vessel as the walls of the fort darken,
lanterns begin to shine,
and you say adieu
An anguished farewell,
as the moon spreads its compassionate light
its lanterns glimmering in the faraway moonlight,
and the boatman singing a lonely song,
tinted by the moonrays, caught by chance.

Allahabad, the Godly meeting-place
where she merges in the overpowering embrace
of her fair, exuberant sibling of the mountain's origin,

the majestic, vociferous sister, Ganga.

but her dark interior is unsubdued
even as the shadowy waters are reminiscent
of their life as they traversed
over terrains of times past.
Yamuna is hard to reconcile.

Here merging with Ganga,
not a harmony of kindred souls,
more of an enforced meeting of contrary streams.
That's the end of a river , far too early before she reaches the sea.
The boatman plies the vessel as the walls of the fort darken,
lanterns begin to shine,
and you say adieu
An anguished farewell,
as the moon spreads its compassionate light
and takes the body of the river in its fold.