Autumn Leaf (Poem)


Beautifully curling upward,
Cupping droplets that land on its skin

I take my finger, wipe the drop
Leaving a skirmish behind

The autumn leaf is like a heart
Turned toward heaven

Changing colors, singing in its death—
I wonder, Leaf, how many songs have you sung?


I wrap myself in a coat of leaves
Stand under a sheltering tree

Sing with the wind
Go to the one who sings over me

Cup my hands, raise them —
Empty— here they are, God, here I am.


Am I to be like that last leaf,
Stuck on the tree, alone? Never leaving?

And I am answered: “Yes.
You are connected to the vine. Remain.”

Water spills over my hands,
Slips through my fingers.


©prasanta,  October 2015

(reposted from the archives)












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