My Salute to Jesus

I do not cry
Wail, weep, and lament
The poverty, misery, and humiliation
Suffered and endured
By Jesus of Nazareth
For he is not a weakling
Requiring my sigh
And stupid sympathy

Neither do I rejoice
In his crucifixion
On that Passover Day
Hoping his messy death
Will blot my sins away
Knowing too well
That true love
Never attempts to patronize

But I salute
His commitment to his vision
His courage to counter the cost
And his stance of nonconformity
At all times, including
To the point of his death
On the cruel cross
In the hill of scull

Henry Victor 04.01.2003

Deserted

Many times I have climbed that hill
On which is the House
Temple for Murugan, Tamil hill god!

Twice I observed
His seat he had deserted!

Once when two innocent lay dead
Like dead animals on wayside
After being shot and killed
In the name of national security

Next when my Toyota Liteace
Rolled back and hit the rut
Since the Sinhalese government’s intent
To genocide led the road to be neglected!

Henry Victor 19.10.2003

Feeling Your Feet!

As I stop to listen to the heartbeat
Of those I am expected to serve
And those connected to my life
Marked only by that simple fact –
Geographical accident –
While some may suggest
Transcendental incident –
I clearly fail to feel your feet!

Even as I habitually name you
In that absent presence
There are those who protest
And many more ignore
My naming that appears too comical!

Elsewhere, in my life, I see
Those who came to defeat me
Stand defeated
But I do not think victorious
In my mind that likes to shun pain
That can creep like a leech to suck
My blood until I fall dead
Hence I refuse to praise
You, considering that game silly!

So, I stand here early this dawn
Gazing at an empty sky
Grazing for a star, or a cloud pattern
In which I may sense you
That may lift my soul
And prompt my journey to continue
Until I fall dead
Or, cease to consume more emptiness!

Henry Victor 03.03.2008

Maturity

Three things I am inclined
To do:

Confirming green as beauty
Walking on path less traveled
And preventing ants striking
My mother’s feet

In these three I see
The secret of gods
My own maturity
That fruition
Prompting a continuity

Henry Victor 09.07.2008

Breathe Your Breath!

I pray you will breathe your breath
Into me to strengthen my mental agility
Even as I face my accusers
The bunch that has ganged together
To remove me from my present seat!

Since I have opted not to be dictated
Or, directed by any other than your spirit
That blows where it wills
Gathering the small, the wounded
Healing them to serve your cause
I am in that crowd that lacks
Worldly sophistication to manipulate
The forces that eventually write the right
And record the wrongs, changing events!

And since the meek look up to me to fight
The arrogant men and women of this world
I, in my helplessness, lift up my eyes to you!

Even as I turn to you for grace, my mind
Sways like a pendulum, this way
And that way, first to your power
That creates the cosmos, recreating colour
Morning and evening amusing my eyes
Then I, at once, wander into Golgotha
The place of mere skulls
To witness your powerlessness!

Nevertheless I choose your breath
That adds freshness to my soul
And freedom to my spirit
That refuses to bow down
To the insolent might

Henry Victor 21.02.2008

No Angels

I am fast learning
There are no angels
But only small devils
That I must be generous
To name as angels
And continue my journey
Acting always angelic
Disregarding that history
That lacks imagination
To create fresh facts
That carries the latest life
Demanding from me
A constant readjustment
In my perception
That writes my story
With full of angels

Henry Victor 09.07.2008

Grace Without Magic

My love for ease prevents
That release of the creative
Energy stored deep within my soul

My fear to take risk fails to kick
That engine that needs a kick-start
Leaving me in bed
To that comfort of that lie
That my body needs more sleep

I then turn to you for cheap grace
Believing the unbelievable
Until you kick me on my face
To pull myself together
And work hard for my release
Or to be damned in that relief
Of my own more sleep and slumber

Increase in me that knowledge
That with you there is no magic
Turning stones into bread
Or skipping consequences
Of my acts – good or bad
While I focus not
On the worth of wealth

Immerse me in that wisdom
That makes you to send the sun
Shine on both good and evil
And rain on wheat and weeds
Viewing wayside pampas grass
In the same way
As you glance at the oak

Henry Victor 08.02.2008