Mira

I Am Mira, mirror of delight.

See My mother in poverty adoring Me,

miracle child of song and dance and laughter.

At the wedding parade, entranced, I exclaim:

“Bride? Yes! I Am that!”

My mother in fear:

(Here girl-babies wed to death.)

“It is the God who takes her, Krishna story only.”

I vow: “I marry Krishna now.

My Lord I have found You.

I Am forever One with You.”

Firefly, entrancing,

spinning into womanhood,

I Am an incandescent girl,

slim candle swirling white,

every breath a celebration!

The king, who owns all shining things,

wants that, takes that,

but My purity,

My Namaste,

like Sita’s moonlight, shines,

cannot be stolen, raped,

captured, jailed, enslaved, seduced.

At last the king, shaken,

gives Me back to India,

white bird of hope,

and I dance free,

as women (here, there)

dare not be,

Avatar,

forever

expressing

Joy’s unextinguishable

light.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018