Holy Cow
A cow wanders aimlessly
Through the alleys of the Holy City.
Poking his head in every cardboard box
And eating every bit of trash.
Occasionally he finds a clump of grass
And thinks “Yum, a treat”.
When he gets thirsty he stops
At a bucket of water and drinks.
He goes to his favorite restaurant
In hopes of getting some scraps.
Poking his head through the door
He gets closer to me, I scoot back,
He moves closer and closer.
The owner comes up to him and
Pokes him with a stick in order to leave.
The cow turns away slowly.
Just a few feet away he feels the urge to pee
So he relieves himself.
His pee makes a big wet spot
And he moves on wondering
Why is his race Holy.
Beyond That Top Layer
On the top you might find
That there is a layer of grime.
Most people just judge by the looks
But don’t be like them.
Look past what you see,
Look deeper.
And when you do
You will be delighted to feel
That under the grime there is color and beauty
In Varanasi’s lively narrow streets.
The Ganga River
It crescents like a moon,
Flowing slow but steady.
Boats loaded far beyond their max
With orange hatted pilgrims
Float out in the heat of the day.
People bathe in the water believing
That it will absolve all of their sins.
Cremation fires burn with dead bodies
At every hour of the day radiating immense heat.
The Ganga is the Holy river of India.
