‘You are the perfect auditor. It is us who fail to understand your arithmetic.’ These lines are from SANJEEV SETHI’S poem, ‘Loyalty’. Somehow, the lines ring true for Indians gripped in the throes of the world’s most horrific pandemic.
Loyalty
(1)
Tonight I bought God
in tune with my aesthetics.
Woody texture. Warm features.
While placing it on the mantel
I wondered:
will He approve of me?
(2)
You are the perfect auditor.
It is us who fail to understand
your arithmetic. Is there anyone
who can teach me God’s calculus?
(3)
When you are riled up
from remitting the impious
remember: that too will reach
your karmic rink.
(4)
Should yachties cruising through life’s canal
bypass those God chooses to publicly castigate?
Should it be their calling to nourish them?
(5)
We inherit our God.
A few grow up
to find their own.
First published in Dead Snakes
***
Inner Guide
As a coda to my nightly worship, I beseech
the Almighty to bless some people. Other than
my immediate circle it is those who cross me
during the course of my quotidian curve.
Last weekend my innards rebelled. Is it
right to supplicate God with a roll call?
Betterment by dipping into an anonymous bank
account of kindness without any obligations?
First published in The Blue Mountain Review
Sanjeev Sethi is published in over thirty countries. His poems have found a home in more than 350 journals or online literary venues. Wrappings in Bespoke is joint-winner of Full Fat Collection Competition-Deux organised by The Hedgehog Poetry Press UK. It is his fourth full-length collection. It will be launched in 2021. Recent Credits: Berfrois, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Amethyst Review, Eremos Magazine, NOON | journal of the short poem, Kairos Literary Magazine, and elsewhere. He lives in Mumbai.
No words to describe the beauty of this poem.
God word is indeed the most enigmatic one which has kept captivating the inquisitive mind since generations.
How beautifully it has been said:
“We inherit our God.
A few grow up
to find their own.”
…
who can indeed
understand his language,
who can at all decode
the tool and text of
his communication ?
everything is perfect
in his tapestry & texture.
no raindrop,
not even a stardust falls
on a wrong place.
every droplet of wave,
and
every flake of sand storm
rise and fall
to settle yet again
in complete precision.
let there be raging fire,
let there be quakes & storm.
tranquility has always
been the order of his day,
it’s merely the time
to go through the ordeal by fire,
it’s merely the time
to go through the sand storm.
…
Thank you Oswald ji, for sharif this beautiful poem to contemplate upon.
Lovely poem of yours, Baturamji.
Thank you.