Saffron crushed

between your palms;

the mystique of vineyard all around,

the garments smell of the rain-soaked soil,

and in you hair, the wisps of smoke

of the incense that burnt all night.

The wind-swept trees huddled together

as the storm howled and blew out the lamp.

It was a night without the moon.

But a single star shone all along;

brighter than the crest of the moon and lighter than

the step of a child learning to walk.

Older than the echo in the cave,

your words sounded on that night to me.

The grave tones warned,

Storms greater than what you see tonight

have been witnessed by the humankind.

Put thy little lamp under a shield

and chant the magic of the memory of my name;

I am more than the name; I am the shield;

absorb this knowledge into your dreams,

and as you walk the path you will know

you are never alone.

Sushama Karnik