January, Bhubaneswar

Somewhere a flame plays withthe cold air. An easy smokespreads over the sleeping bodies.

Somewhere else, in the distant north,a child cries for warmth and love,its body cold like winter.

News broadcasters speak ofthe lowest winter in many years;rain falls on broken rooftops

with a sound that brings togetherdistant memories of May and summer.The sun has disappeared.

Nothing can be changed, nothingthat can take care of the next day;summer is too far away to be remembered.

We stand on our feet and measurethe body's failure to recaptureits native heat, the sun's failures.

Tell us a story that will go beyondthe cold and cover us with warmth.Teach us how to pray, recover an old faith.