Skip to main content

I STILL DON'T LOVE YOU by Urmila Devi Dasi


I was stuck in Heathrow Airport for about nine hours after an eight-hour flight…

Then there were the nine hours of being stuck in a plane on a frozen runway before that, and other flights before that. I was tired, sweaty, and altogether wondering if I would ever make it to my destination of Vrindavana, India, or if my luggage would. I did; it didn't.

But, anyway, in the airport, waiting for my detoured flight to Thailand, I felt solace and happiness at watching the many passengers wearing varieties of religious clothing, just as I was. In that mood, I wrote this piece:

 
I Still Don’t Love You

Everything in life, Lord, you direct
Though not seeing you we quickly forget
How you’re everywhere and in everything
And all life’s situation happiness brings
To one who never fails to see your grace
The author pictured on right
Evidence even in the filth of this place
So many, Lord, try to come to you
I see them around me—Muslim, Hindu and Jew
They wear their symbols and garb as I do
Telling the world worship is your due
Their sentiments inspire, I pay them respect
And know I still don’t love you, not yet!



Photography by Peggy Abrams
Urmila Devi Dasi (Dr. Edith Best) has been practicing bhakti yoga since 1973 and travels the world teaching the science of the Bhagavad Gita and the practical application of bhakti to life. She has a PhD in education and has three decades of experience teaching primary and secondary students, which include 19 years of experience as a school administrator and leader. She has published Vaikuntha Children, a guidebook for devotional education, The Great Mantra for Mystic Meditation, dozens of articles, and Dr. Best Learn to Read, an 83 book complete literacy program with technology enabling the story books to speak in 25 languages at the touch of a special “pen”. Urmila and her husband, Pratyatosa, have three grown married children and eleven grandchildren. In 1996, Urmila and Pratyatosa entered the renounced order of life, or vanaprastha, in Sanskrit. You may connect with her through her website here, or subscribe to her on Facebook

~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~

Comments

  1. I love how the bhakti path seems to honor other paths in their recognition and reverence towards God. You captured that well here. Very humble poem. Enjoyed it. Thanks! :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, Jessica. That also moved me: the way Urmila so swiftly identified herself with those of other religious traditions, meditating on how she -along with so many other souls- are moving toward God, together. Best of all, she drew inspiration from seeing them! Very sweet. :)

      Delete
    2. i like the setting & how she provides the context of reflective 'people-watching' in the airport for this poem.
      Thank you

      Delete
    3. I've always loved people watching, Evan. Ever since I was a little girl. And I would try to imagine what they are thinking and feeling, and where they are going. Perhaps, in this case, the author is imagining how close each of these people in religious dress are getting to God.

      Delete
  2. PAMHO!AGTŚP!Exellent poetry!Inspire to grov up my Krishna Counscious in loking for other's people!Thamk You for this shearing!Hare Krishna!Y.s.Parananda Prema dasa.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

MY HEART SEEPS by Edith Lazenby

Courage is not only facing fear, but also looking past fear, to see what lies it tells and truths it saves...
Sometimes I sit at a computer in trepidation. The house trembles and I wonder what I will find. 
Truth is not a fact or a feeling. It may rest on love’s heart and walk with integrity. It may stand beyond humanity in ways we can only imagine. Truth can be solid as earth and fickle as wind. But a wind can know stillness and the earth can crack wide open.
Tonight I found a stillness in a crack and managed to balance there...


My Heart Seeps
by Edith Lazenby
I cannot hold on And I cannot let go. I walk a path I don’t know. I feel moonlight But cannot see Its orb midst The cloudy cold. My hands tremble. My eyes tear. My toes wriggle To grasp earth. I want to stand Tall in the light Yet fear shadows all. Inside I crumble Under the weight I cannot shoulder.

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness…
Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather all of life into your inner c…

DEPRESSION by Veronica Carpenter

Depression
Here goes my vulnerability A heart on a sleeve The typical person who looks at me May not see the same me that I live with daily The mind in the air, swirling with possibility When the darkness rallies/gathers/swirls When I am left to solitude This paper-thin garb unzips Here comes depression          
No I don’t want to advertise So flash a smile Those who are close get to see Through the veil, it’s really not that thick Circumstances in life like to stab at the rib Stumble, fall behind the door Shut out the world Feelings well and weigh down Strength hidden deep in the core So deep that sometimes it’s forgotten Here comes the darkness My old friend Sweeping through my every move  Doubts, fears, un-named masked men Oozing like honey, sticking to everything
Patience is required to get on this ride There is a cycle but its pattern is unknown Slowly my gift will unwrap itself Stay on the path Coming back to that which never truly left me Just laid sleeping out of exhaustion from the fight Dormant in winter…