Worship Poem by Sudam Panigrahi

In the morning

You pour

thimbles of water

looking towards the sun

or on the basil tree.

Light incense sticks

with choice-able fragrances

in front of a niche

filled with deities

praying for prosperity

happiness

You may feel happy

but not god

because every morning

destitute returns

empty handed

from your door.

Hunger returns

with more hunger

God returns

bruised and battered

as after worship

you forget worship.