Good Friday: Hanuman Jayanti

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Hanuman (Photo credit: bananeman)


It is good Friday.

The Son of Man dies on the cross.

The Son of the Wind is born,

Darkening the Sun

In his eager flight

To grasp the golden fruit.


With dispassion stronger than diamond

I break the glittering baubles

Fame, wealth, power, prestige,

Houses, cattle, cars and land.

What use are these trinkets to me

Without the Name of Ram?

What good is even my life to me

If 'Rama' is not written on every rib?

In the anguish of longing for Him

My chest is torn open

My heart plucked out. 

He Ram, He Ram

Why have you forsaken me?


Hungry for the fruit of liberation

I hurl myself towards the sun

And fall again,

Lifeless and cold

To the earth.

Come, Son of the Wind

Revive me with fragrant herbs

From the Garden of Gethsemane

The Child of Eve is dying

Let the Child of the Wind be born.

Carry me home

To the city without conflict

May my heart be the heart of Hanuman

Where Ram and Sita dwell.


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    This page contains a single entry by Alakananda Ma published on April 6, 2012 7:18 AM.

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