Suraja Roychowdhury
The Light Gathers
I watch from up high on the balcony of my hotel as they trudge up the path. Monks, their heads shaved, in groups of twos and threes. Their maroon robes are dim bursts of color.
prayer wheels round and round and round the same pleas
An emerald lawn. Dewdrops sparkle on the grass, damp and cool on my feet as I breathe in the early morning breeze. In the distance I see the mighty Dhauladhar mountains, mere foothills of the Himalayas. The sun blazes.
orange even in the dark canna
About the Author
Suraja Roychowdhury is originally from India, now living in Lexington, Massachusetts. She is a Chinese Medicine practitioner who loves writing haiku, tanka, haibun, haiga, and other Oriental poetic forms.
i love the assonance in the first haiku that reminds me of the chanting in monasteries; how the set rhythm and pattern almost dulls the ache of climbing steep hills to reach up and then the way the breathing settles in, matches the chant and everything around including us loses shape, becomes this song, this hum, this pattern.
Thanks very much, Shalini for your wonderful comment:). My apologies for the delayed response!