A poem by Madhuri.
Three friends and champagne
in a concrete room with tiled floor
bed rumpled; Prince sings soft –
and your face, Osho,
on photos lain with tender male abandon
on table, or propped by wall –
Blond Dane, dark Dane, and me;
three assorted glasses, clear gold wine
tasting of Spanish wood.
Hearts flow in and out each other
like leaves talking.
Magic how the wind howls
off the river
around the shabby stance of flats,
pulling on outer doors.
Our eyes glow quiet –
bellies too are more eyes glowing
the radiant unspeaking
magic, more than magic, in flow of air
ineffable and light as wine, the flow
of blood and love among us,
we love each other, the bed loves, the colored
photos love, the walls, austere as jail, love too.
Crisply I become aware
with long sad indrawn breath of wonder
that you fill this, Osho;
it is your silent river
we paddle in so gently;
Who know nothing…we rest in your grace here
lazy as summer swimmers
Bellies revealed to melted sun.
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