Dear krsna, I know you do not sorrow. You are beautiful and becoming in other ways.
I know you never longed
                               Even the crickets do it
                               In the grasses
                               And the cuckoo
                               Have a word for it in their tongue
Never grew lonely with your voice,
You, and never!
                         Never!
Forgot that you were the azure
Among the fair boys.
And your surefooted horses
Raised dust and raised clouds always
On paths of your choosing.

But remember Ram? Who dialogued the trees...
- Tilaka! Vata! Malati! Kunda! Ashoka! Atimuktaka!
- Have you seen her?
- Fair waist
- Was it this side? That?
- And did she cry?

Wringing his strong hands like a laundress
He
Wept
He
He
Railed against fate and the elements,
Night and day…months…
He even lost his way.

Ram of the death name. Good and brave. And seer of sorrow
And kind.

He
Who knew
But was well before your time.