Musings from Göteborg – I

Sketches - 239

A city on the west coast of Sweden is home
to a staggering one million people.
Numerous tram tracks criss-cross its vast belly.
People of various colours and creed inhabit here.


Must you visit Nordstan on an evening:
you will see children playing on the marble floors;
you will see old men with long beards and heavy jackets playing chess at Le pain Français;
Hare Krishna devotees stop passersby to disseminate the glory of God;
amidst this hullabaloo, choristers with discordant voices sing the glory of Jesus;
teenagers with their spiked hair, wearing leather jackets adorned with numerous metal studs and sporting heavy boots and torn jeans, lie flat on the floor in front of Wasséns.

Sketches - 238


At the entrance, a beggar with a deformed leg asks for money;
not a gaze falls on this impoverished soul as
the busy shoppers walk swiftly past him.


A white blanket of puffy clouds coats the sky.
White, the epitome of purity;
White, the colour that destroyeth brother/sister-hood;
White the colour that embraces all the colours within its crevices.


The day cometh to an end.
Darkness descends and birds hide;
children weep as owls hoot;
a tiny star manages to peek through
the thick blanket of dark clouds,
to guide the songbird that crosses the delsjön;
amidst these activities, a giant moose knee-clicks,
to signal the rest of the herd for a night walk.


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