Blog 1: It would be dark if not for the auto driver, his friend and my mother

It would be dark if not for the auto driver, his friend and my mother

 

When the morning sun rises

Naked men lay at our feet

And they will not rise when spoken to

When the evening river ripples

Skinny men bathe in Mutha’s waters

And they will not dry when made aware

When the night sky covers

Shivering men sleep atop our houses

And they will not warm themselves when poked

And what of the driver and his copper rick

He offers water that is pure

And we share names

And he reaches out his hand

To someone that is his best friend

And my Indian mother

In her small house

That smells like ginger

Or sometimes peanut chutney

But rings of laughter when her son comes home

And he who waits thirty minutes for a bus he will not take

Even though he has money to make

To ensure safe passage

For a woman he will not know

 

Or, perhaps, it is dark

And nakedness is to own nothing

Skinniness is to consume too little

And shivering a sign of coldness

And I think,

How good it is that we love suffering