A poem by Madhuri.
Drying laundry hangs like bats under the eaves
And inside this long room
From the curtain-rails.
My breakfast smoothie’s in front of me
On the table.
Sun is so brilliant outside,
Magnified by snow.
I am happy.
In the night my sore left tonsil –
It’s the season for the flu –
Was very precisely absolved of pain
By a Tone: a chime: a bell
Produced by the Supporting Ones –
Right into the mark it went
From the Archer’s bow.
I lay in the dark marvelling
And fell asleep
And woke all wrapped in the
Personal, personal blankets
Of love, which say,
“Permission granted.
It was always here.”
Poem by Madhuri, Les Diablerets, 22.11.04
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