I
A letter must be written
to the one holding sunflowers.
His song is the hymn.
He sings to those behind cages.
The light-bearer himself,
he departs now.
II
A letter flew in.
It carries poems of all the mystics,
all the candles that burned,
left their stories here.
God takes many forms.
God is present in departure,
in arrival,
in the branches.
We kneel in the snow
and welcome the sun.
My sisters and I track the birds,
the letters.
Vaishali Paliwal
Moonwater 