The Saga of the Bodhi Tree—Sarah Das Gupta
Bodhi Tree
heart leaf
ancient truth.
For seven long weeks the Buddha sits under my cool, dark shade. He meditates in this pool of green light. Beneath me, He becomes the Enlightened One. My heart-shaped leaves are holy hieroglyphics, green messages of love to an embattled world. I look down on the crowds of pilgrims. The first light of day shines on praying hands, brushed now by sunlight. Ashoka’s Queen, jealous of my power, is plotting against me. She curses me with cruel thorns; snake-like they entangle and suffocate my branches. I conquer and survive. On the eighth day of December, I bless the crowds who offer me milk, water, food. I see them from my topmost branches, first tiny ants, then small moving figures, now devotees bearing gifts. Night is closing in. Look, dusk shrouds my highest boughs. I rejoice to see a thousand lamps around my trunk. As I look down, see, myriad pin-pricks of light in the darkness.
Sarah Das Gupta is a retired teacher who taught in UK, India and Africa. She lived in Kokata for a number of years and currently lives near Cambridge,UK. Her work has been published in both online journals and in print.
Bethel Beach, Spring High Tide—Molly O’ Dell
Two brittle brown discs, mostly buried
in the sand, reflect light. A pair
of horse shoe crabs appear dead.
Thirty minutes later, the tide recedes.
I see them turn, together, and claw back
toward the sea, he grips her beneath.
The site of mating holds thousands
of eggs buried, same as their
ancestors over many pink moons.
Nine eyes scattered over a plate-like
skeleton, creatures so perfect
nothing’s changed for a million years.
Molly O’Dell lives in southwest Virginia where she enjoys being out in nature as much as possible. She writes from her experiences and observations as mother, physician, friend, lover, sister and child. Her published works include Off the Chart, Care is A Four Letter Verb and Unsolicited 96 Saws and Quips from the Wake of the Pandemic.
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