On a Sunday morning
at 7 O'clock
when the cool breeze
was blowing from the north,
my son poured a copper pot of water
on a basil plant to say his prayers;
Standing behind
I said to my grandson,
'Let us pray too, my dear.'
The two-year old, tiny tot,
took me by a storm -
knelt down to touch the ground
by his little forehead
that spread over the three worlds!
Tears rolling down my cheeks,
in my mind I could see
the sun god in crimson robes
coming down to the earth
to bless the innocent...
When I bent down
to pick up the flower-like lad
a voice within me I heard,
'If there be a god,
can it be another other than what you hold!'
