Soil

They have faded —
The stone gods that fell into rivers of oil

I must conceive a religion of my own
Start from the soil
Scratch forgotten seeds that hold
unborn trees, buried under fermenting earth

The roots don’t belong to anyone’s land
They go far under the lines us humans can draw
From the gut of an untraced god, our tree erupts
Her fruits are packets of fresh mud, for anyone to have

She is my god, I draw a circle around her feet
A creed is born. Its first child knits a red anklet
for her —
I bow to the soil, a stranger’s soil
I have marked as my own

I sprinkle oil, I devise a song
I dress the circle with new stones
They are now the priests of a god
I drew from the center of the earth

~

For more poetry, get my debut poetry collection — The Saree Shop