On my last lap my meek feeble body
Surrenders on the operation table
For a surgery on my right eye.
While getting ready my body is covered.
My left arm moves. Someone questions,
‘Any problem? Tell us’. ‘No problem.’
Yet again the same action and same question.
‘A fly on my nose; my mind’s trickery.’
A young voice sings a famous tune.
My nagging mind keeps poking at my body,
‘You have a constant cough these days.
What will happen if you cough now?’
The surgeon works like a sculptor
with her delicate fingers and fine tools
on my untimely ageing eye, on a living body.
My right eye reveals vibrant spectrum
in many a rainbows in many shapes
moving, changing in a lost space – time.
A tiny part of my body dies. sooner
than I realise, a grey flash for a while.
Than once again ‘similar’ rainbows appear.
My arrogant mind now is stunned
by the power of homeostatis:
as if by miracle no sign of cough.
Seeing this and the revelations
of rich abstractions of colours
my mind is humbled before my body.
My dominating mind had bullied my eyes
– my body – to toil for decades –
O, ages – for its own limitless ego.
One mind pushed an organic part to decay,
another replaced it by one made of Earth:
Both could have been saved by some sanity.
At an early age mind could only reach
out to know and understand the world
through body, her senses, sensitivity.
Unadulterated then by civilisations
it was united with body. O, it’s but
now forgotten, or is lost in the forest.
At an early age my mind adored body
at her zenith as Mother Goddess;
it now elevates her by beautifications:
with perfumes, pigments, ornaments, attires
to appeal the public eye, and confers upon her
selectively with world beauty pageant titles.
By acquisition of civilised cultures
mind has now becomes brainy, and wants
to rule me as my self-coroneted master.
It considers itself of a superior race,
exploits my body as an inferior ugly object
for any use at will, than its abode and a mate.
It invents exotic cuisines to feed its ego,
and stuffs my body like a garbage can,
or starves her. It doesn’t know hunger.
It invents drugs, transplants of organs
from other bodies to keep its own going,
or breast implants for public sex appeal.
Like cuisines sexuality occupies mind.
It invents assaults on sex in private
and public places and in cyber space.
Mind has forgotten that sex is the seventh
sense dormant in the genitals for the survival
of spaces in human, animal, and plant worlds
Unlike an aboriginal mind that adores
yoni and phallus – fertility and vitality,
my hedonist mind misses the essence of sex.
Mind mummifies dead body, builds tombs
over indifferent bones and ashes and the Earth
in its vanity, for non-existent future.
Mind condemns its own abode a hundred
ways and continues its tantrums further
upon the mass of body of the collective
to its fragments that drift away from each
other, sends vibes of alienation to gain
power and control over them; to exploit
the weak and the less privileged;
and finally turns to abuse and rape Mother Earth
progressively for the applause of crowd.
How the evil designs of demonic mind
Spread fast across the oceans and land,
become global epidemic unabated!
But the young minds, their body and soul
spontaneously celebrate the coming of spring,
rain and harvest, join in the dance and song.
Why can’t my mind come down to earth,
and join innocent joys and dance along
the pathway of the Sun around the globe?
There’s a soft whisper,
‘No soul, no body;
No body, no mid.’
Now I know at my final go
whatever may be the cause
it shall be a joyful bliss,
just as now, for liberated soul.
To narrate I’ll not be there.
That’s everyone’s sole privilege.
I bless her that shows the way
Silently within touch her feet
one personified Sat-Chit-Anandam.
* * *
Remigius de Souza
11 Nov. – 3 Dec. 2004
© Remigius de Souza., All rights reserves.