the very frame of poverty itself
permeates
every last avenue available
for the mounting desperation
of these dusty hill people
the paved road must seem like a haven
for escape
from the sullen sight of the sag weary trees
to the litter, the pollution and the filth
to the musty look of the haphazard structures
that attempt so valiantly to pass themselves off
as home dwellings
grim determination sits stoically atop every aspect
of life here
so insistently the people stream through
their days
and yet hope alights for an instant
in a glance here or an exchange of greeting there
that one gets the feeling that such hope
tempers many days all at once
in some haunting sort of compilation
whether upon a throng of children playing
a harmless pushing game
or a vendor woman cackling toothlessly while
gossiping over her goods with another local
upon an uneven slab of sidewalk
the side streets jump to come alive
with such spontaneous hustling and bustling
so sad though it would all too easily seem
to an uneducated observer
and yet God's wonderful mystery visits
to pull the veils from the eyes
with a new unsaddled enthusiasm
in the wake of such meager scraps being shown
all before suddenly aligns to demonstrate
that for these humbled and hard working
a hope all its own has its tentative hold
though small as a vessel but bitter as malaria
to one who has so, so worldly much by comparison
still those threads remain
cherished yet somewhat broken
and quite utterly beautiful
in their ongoing repair
for there is much soul work going on here
it's in these precious few moments
of clear, unobstructed view
that one sees for him or herself
so transparently
the absolute joy
in God's all knowing nature
even here
from my back car seat
"On The Road To Dibrugarh"
yes, even here
one gets that, 'like a light bulb moment'
and when that happens
it's as if
God himself chose to take you into his confidence
and show you the world as he sees fit to display
it...............
(written Jan 18,2006 135pm on the road to Dibrugarh, India)