Sanctum Sanctorum
I’ve preserved it
Taken care of it
Nurtured it
Nourished it
With all my love
And gentle care…
Kept it clean
Showering everyday
It smells nice and fresh
Of soap and gel,
After every bath
If you inhale me
You’ll feel the freshness
Of what I say…
Though sometimes
I just let it be
Not that clean
So it retains
Its home-grown smell…
Amidst the foliage
Of nature’s care
Hidden deep inside
The lustrous hair
Of soft and tender
Pinkish folds…
Like a holy mound
Of virgin skin
Its very source
Emanates a sweet smell
Of that precious nectar
They call Amrit.
And when it flows,
It makes me feel like
A woman all over…
Wanting, wishing, longing
And waiting and waiting…
For that auspicious moment
When far beyond the horizons,
The earth would meet the sky
And the sanctum sanctorum
Of my very being…
Would be offered
The potent seeds of life.
I can wait aeons and aeons
For that blessed hour to come by
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poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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