In India the gods ride on a peacock's back,
and yet outside the gates of Heaven he waited,
unconvinced that here within these shining
barricades
there was a place where he might find a home.
He watched the other birds
- drab greys and sober browns –
settle smugly in the mustard tree,
spreading out their wings.
No room for peacocks there.
But God had seen him hiding just beyond the
wall,
and wept,
and went outside.
“Come in.
What better place for you than here ?
Come in.
Who made your plumage, who, your crested head?
Who practised blue and green and purple on your
silky tail?
Come in.
For who but I created you to tell the solemn world
that heaven does not happen only here behind
these jewelled walls
but everywhere you spread your God-reflecting
feathers.”
Slowly, with a wary hope,
the peacock lifted up his head
and looked into the iridescent eyes of God
"Climb on my back, “the peacock softly
cried,
"we'll go together through these gates,
and I shall be a fitting bearer for the King of
kings.”
4th Dec 97
I wrote this for a friend who was discovering his colourful nature.
In Hindu belief one
of the sons of Shiva, Kumari – also known as Skanda – who is the God of war,
rides on a peacock.
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