The Tiger
Like Durga with eighteen arms equipped,
Saddled on the back of a roaring tiger,
Slaying Mahishasura,
You strike terror in my heart
By your ways of virtue and power.
What invisible hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful syzygy?
I am more like the tiger,
But not the one your rode—
Rather, the tiger that sought
His humanity by roaming in a cave's darkness,
To eat nothing for one hundred days,
Unable to restrain my desire to wander
And explore what was enshrouded to me.
If I could be your tiger,
I wonder if I would no longer stray,
Learning to grasp ferociously
For the swelter that lies ahead,
Perhaps we could go headlong
Into battle and tame the jungle
Beneath our feet,
And in that weather,
Let us sweat and sink.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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