A Pilgrimage

Every wind of my hamlet
unto me tells a whispering tale.
Every visit to my hamlet
unto me is now a pilgrimage.

Her green meads, waters and fields,
Those shady lanes, that solemn silence,
Her glimmering hurricane lanterns by night,
Gentle reveries woken by the silent moonlight.

My cousins, those poignant vacations,
My ancestral house, those twilight incantations,
The temple, that long whispering stillness,
And the stars twinkling in quietness.

From the din of the world
As I pass unto these scenes,
A solitary chirp is visibly heard,
A movement within is deeply felt.

Now, as I take a dip in this river,
She embraces me like a fondling mother.
And her wavelets in silence ask-
‘Where were you my boy all these years? ’

by Ravi Panamanna

Comments (21)

Beautiful lines..... And her wavelets in silence ask- ‘Where were you my boy all these years? ’ A lovely tribute to your village. Beautiful images of village is portrayed. Loved reading it. Beautiful presentation.
‘And her wavelets in silence ask-/‘Where were you my boy all these years? ’’ …very deep and profound poetry…you’ve encompassed mundane and noetics in the canvas of Mother…jocund and metaphor with glitter and gloss… Thanks for sharing Ms. Nivedita UK 10/10
Wow what a poetic description and lovely narration.....your words whisper soulfully into my ears.........10+++++++
A vivid and touching flashback of memories..well done!
A pilgrimage is a wonderful tribute to your village...this poem has a wonderful sentimental feel as you relive all the happy memories of your homeland...lovely piece..10
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