“Storm Drain Baby” by
Bhava Yoga
Morning’s roseate sky
Has been blasted away,
Branches now whirligigs
Swirl with a fierce southern wind
As windows rattle in frames.
A tattered umbrella
Shades from a relentless sun.
I listen to Bhava Yoga
The vibration of Love,
Where imagination meets
Memory in the dark.
Yet surrounding these soothing tones
The world outside this music
Conspires to disrupt, sweep away
All thought, reflection.
The fierce wind gets my attention.
I can not deny its primal force.
Still, the pulse of Bhava Yoga
Draws me within,
Feeds imagination with memory,
Calls forth something as enduring as the fury outside,
And I feel the pulse of the infinite.
==
We are like birds,
Clinging with dulled claws to
The swaying branches of life.
Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2016
revised by Kora Davishen
Yesterday a baby was born,
Placed in a storm drain
To survive by a father who wasn’t.
Three days of heavy rain
Washed the conflicts of this Lamb
Into the sea.
He was found, expected to live
And fled,
His life measured in scant public
Outrage outside hollywood
The 40 year old father said as they
Led him away:
“It was a marriage gone strong.”
The rain continues today
Rushing down streets
To storm drains,
Making a gurgling sound.
Jane Kohut-Bartels
September 18, 2009-2016
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