HAPPINESS
Ashok Niyogi
Who knows what sores fester
Beneath the ground?
Light the lamps.
This will be the festival of lights.
In the mountain desert,
Near the sky
We will forget about dissension
And chains of command.
We will celebrate with abandon
As we do in our village down below
On level ground.
Happiness is a gust of cool breeze,
A sudden shower in bright sunlight.
Happiness is footsteps on a staircase,
And the turning of the key.
Who thinks about subterranean moons
That ooze pus, gangrenous pus?
Happiness is running to catch a bus
That takes you home,
To candles on your windowsill.
Happiness is the odor of musk.
Happiness is daffodils at dusk.
Let the doctors cut and probe and amputate.
Happiness is shafts of morning light
Creeping through the drapes.
One more day.
Happiness is the smell of freshly mown grass.
Happiness is the perfection of the narrative in a dream.
Happiness is the echo of the same familiar theme.
The bloodletting will pass.
No sores will fester anymore
Beneath the ground,
In the mountain desert,
Near the sky.
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