Of movement
Colour and
Humanity
It is easy enough
To forget
These are beings
Each with a life
As full as my own
As troubled
And beautiful
Filled with family
And friends
Hardship and joy
Love and petty hatreds
Gods and philosophy
Politics and economy
Then fall
To our basest instincts
Defending them
Proselytising them
Exploiting them
Except
Perhaps
Sunrise
Weakened sun
Weakened lungs
Weakened resolve
Beauty and ugliness
Joy and hardship
Kindness and predation
This land of extremes
This country of paradox
Creating beauty from ugliness
Not intended
To diminish
The faithful
But to invite
What could be
More iconic
India
Cabs stacked up
End to end
Filled with fares
Or seeking them
Crowded shops
Pedestrians
Littered streets
Swept clean by morn’
So full of life
Activity
This crowded block
Where could it be
I arrive in Rishikesh
Where the Ganga
Gently exits
The Himalaya
Heave a sigh
Breathe deeply
And collect myself
On the riverbank
With utter abandon
She runs
Gangly limbs
All astrewn
Head rolled back
Now lolling
Side to side
She runs
Only for the joy
It seems
Of running
Down Bengali Tola
And as my camera
Finally finds her
She finds me