The Gopis Circle With twilight’s approach we slip out the door, singing away the burdens of our days as we flee for the horizon. Our houses crumble behind us like dust, all of our dharmas become light as feathers, flying away on the tail of the wind. Our families fear for our lives, believing us to be lost, irresolute, vague, and unpredictable. They have never heard the sound of the name of Govinda. All night long we follow the sound of His name, drenched in His nectar, being done with all other things. The taste of His lila is all we remember now. It cuts through our bonds, easily like a child laughing, snipping away spools of ribbon.
Natalie Lester is a poet currently residing in Ithaca, NY. Her work has appeared in Poetic Sun, Spirit Fire Review, Eucalyptus & Rose, and Sparks of Calliope.
Amethyst Review 