Poem: The Oracles

Oracles. Powerful, I-know-it-alls. Then, comes a day when there is a farm to plow.

Poem: The Oracles

The High Priest of the Temple
For a decade, you may have been
On the farm, you have to learn to hold
The plow firm and till the soil
Let the sun beat and your back tan
Sow the seeds and water them with faith
For it was you who planned the harvest
Oh, the mindset it is — how fickle it can be
Flippant like the weather around here
A question from the past —
Are the people we think ourselves to be
Two sides to a coin — always, there are
Telling others how to live their lives
Screaming Eureka from the sidelines
Then the real blood, sweat and tears —
Flows from the deep trenches
Not a guest in your own home
If you were, home it never was
Maybe the backyard garden is good enough
Not the farm that we had dreamed
The Oracles of the High Temple
— could do better staying in the shadows.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2024