We walk barefoot
in the melting dark
towards a temple
which shines like a
magnesium flare
the too loud bells
ring a clear path
to our souls
like the horns
in the traffic outside
which force through a passage
that every time
brings you miraculously home
The pollen coloured priests
ring and chant and fan
and the smiling god and goddess
hear your prayers


About Mikaela

I am an artist and writer living in the Perth Hills
This entry was posted in India, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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