In Bangkok people
emerge from their beehives
early enough to throng the roads.
Busy street vendors, their
voice a nasalized twang, lure you
to Thai food. A genial smile
and gracious bow. . .
Unknown people walk away
busy with their own lives.
Wide roads stretch endlessly
baring itself to heavy wheels and footfalls
The Grand Palace beckons tourists
Its gilt and glitter reflect
the sunlight and its glorious past.
Sentinels to preserve the bygones
stand steady simulating a statue.
Through the corridors of history
decorated with murals, I become
a Thai princess; shedding years,
ugliness and the present.
I walk with majesty.
My skin assumes a bright golden glow,
eyes narrow down to a line,
lips like cherry sing a Thai melody.
Dragons come alive,
swing their tails to the tune.
Golden Buddha reposing in Wat Pho
slowly fall asleep….
With their pointed headgear
shower blessings – love, peace, ahimsa
The abandoned sleeping child and wife
of Siddhartha enter my soul.
Without an adieu why did you leave?
The words take wings, flit through the air
and pierce the Spiritual from the Material.