Dakshineshwar

Poem — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #94

By Gangā’s shore rose that spired sight
Housed on a plot more humble than proud,
At attention’s centre is Her likeness kept
A shimmering black and dire blood-red.

Sentinels nine guard that blessed site,
Donning nine aspects Shiva in trance stood
Whilst His will through Her energy does act
For welfare of man and this blessed world.

The sacred patch once witnessed the priest
Who wept for the Mother in laments loud,
“Thine am I, yet I wither by Thy neglect,
O Mother, without Thee I’d rather be dead!”

Swift as will the priest to Her likeness leapt
And seized Her blade the demons ever dread,
His limbs swung an arc like Shiva’s crescent
Towards his throat like a boon desired!

Then something tore reality in a moment,
And out emerged a form even sages feared,
Kāli mighty, Goddess and Empress of night,
Caught the priest and flicked away the blade.

The priest swooned and his soul tearless wept,
“Why hast Thou cast me here as if orphaned
When devotion’s fires singe me every moment,
Deny me not Thyself, or cull this orphan dead!”

Her raging Force simmered to a maternal facet
And said, “I love thy soul and hence have toyed
Confounding thy mind, hiding from thy heart
So that thou art to My purpose in time ripened

Fear not henceforth, I have sundered the knot,
From now thou canst with lay eyes behold
My form and hear the music of my anklet,
In thy works I shall appear called or uncalled!”

An oblation of tears seemed to hail Her feet
And the priest from his trance returned.
Dakshineshwar they call that hallowed plot
Where Kali and her priest their divine act unfolded.

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Dakshineshwar