An apparent failure, the last sessions
Of prayer meetings an act of repeated
Provocation like someone descending
A slippery staircase into a holy river.
Gandhi had seen the light, and his path
Its simplicity, the world its complexity,
His attire, his few steps back and forth,
The witness to what life was all about.
Embracing life, he had spurned the West’s
Solution, its civilisation, yet quietly moved
In mute defiance of what would turn out
To be the life pattern for his people.
Yet, to this day his words remain unchanged
And true, and his path that in the grind
And groan of industry is witnessed simply
As proof of the undying life of God.