My Mentor's silence speaks to me.
And the hushed calm that follows
Takes the form of a canopy -
Beneath whose shade, I dwell and rest.
His unspoken words pick up
My ashen being.
Hearing which, like a phoenix,
I rise from the dead!

My confusion resoles my heart
With uncertainty.
Defeated, not lost.
Heartbroken, yet not crushed.
I walk into a Paradise
Of make-believe -
Where His grace in permanence nests.

My Mentor's silence as an act
Of faith, I treat.
He heals my festering wounds
That pester me.
When a heap of clouds
Indents my vision,
He recurves my treacherous course.
I know He protects me.

When heathen crowds
Pilfer solitary hours of mine
Then, into a singed shadow
I retreat.
In my cluttered life,
From time to time,
Often I begin to feel lonely.

At that point
My Mentor's guiding gaze
Is enough for me.
He hides His smile,
But His eyes sparkle openly.
I just feel He is always there for me.

Mumbai
1997

Geeta Chhabra

From the book: No Journey Ends by Geeta Chhabra.