Rice Offerings

We sit with solemn faces in front

of the peaked, three-tiered cupboard

that houses framed pictures and brass statuettes

of goddesses and gods,

and we start praying at the stroke of the hour,

not wavering until sixty minutes are over.

My mother, almost a nonagenarian,

dips her right fingers into a silver bowl

in synchrony to our chanting of the mantra.

She plucks rice grains, one by one, and tosses them

into a silver receptacle to placate the goddess

so she’ll save humanity from this twenty-first century plague.

My mind and hand focus on piously flinging

white grains into a growing white mound

as we concentrate on the powerful words

and the silent plea that springs from our empathy

for the nameless masses in India, in America, in all countries.

My eyes are drawn to the brass statuette:

Hanuman holding on his palm, Mount Meru, symbol of healing.

The vibrations of our prayers

swell in the large room, making us feel optimistic.

As we finish chanting shanti, shanti,*

I hope at least one person is spared.

*shanti – Sanskrit word for peace

Author
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Tara Menon

Tara Menon, a poet, short story writer, and essayist, has had more than seventy poems published in magazines, literary journals, and anthologies. Some of her recent poems have been published in “Cider Press Review,” “Last Leaves Magazine,” “The New Verse News,” and “The Orchards Poetry Journal.”

Rice Offerings

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