Eating with Mahaprabhu
A poem By Tadiya Dasi
Dear Mahaprabhu,
let me be honest and say:
I don’t know what to make of this,
this kitchen religion of yours …
I am unsure of the mercy
that comes as food
(this is a problem for me)
but how to refuse a gift? When the giver is you!
How to politely say
no
to a blessing?
Mahaprabhu, don’t you know me?
I am not a taster;
my tongue is an boring old man
that has smoked his whole life and is
incapable of tasting real food;
prefers yesterday’s leftovers
in between the overflowing sink and the kitchen counter
Prince of Tasting, you must know
that I know nothing about
love as food,
or about offering your heart
in between the pots and the spices
or about the kitchen becoming the heart of the house
know nothing about how to prepare
a feast like someone madly in love
and forgetful of tasting
nor about the beauty that takes the form of an offering:
the scent and the colors
unifying; creating flavors that melt in the tongue in perfect
sequence
Yet you come chasing me:
arms cupped in prasad; you want me
swimming in the flavors of your love
Let me be honest and say:
You hold such strange dinner parties!
Where all are invited
but so few choose to come,
where the tasting is so different
and the heart that chooses the flavors
But I do want to eat with you!
I want the boys and the picnics
the sun and the shining face of your
moon
that drapes my heart
protectively
like a night descending
while the sun rises
and takes me to a place
where even the dark
has light to offer;
take me by the hand
teach me to taste
the flavors of your love!
Give me an appetite for this!
Take me there
where
the smell of earth, and the ripened fruits
fill the air;
the air abuzz with friendship and excitement!
Where the day’s just starting
and what great adventures lie ahead!
Where you raise up a glass of homemade lemonade
squeezed by the loving hands of a mother,
every drop of her affection is in this juice
and how generously you share it,
pour the biggest cup for everyone;
somehow, you favor all
Where you hold hands with everyone,
such is your love, it reaches out to all;
the surrounding hills
and the sound of cows’ hooves hitting the ground
running
towards you
are filled with it
as the dust settles and laughter fills the air;
this is
the real kind of belly-laugh,
and this eating with you
a bubbling joy
Where the hands are busy feeding you
yet somehow; your tasting becomes theirs
(let it become mine too)
as every flavor
has something sweet to say about you
Where
everything tastes new!
Where cows
come forward
kiss your face with their wet noses
as you feed them sweets from the basket
and your friends take turns to let you taste
whatever they are tasting; in this friendship
the sharing, the greatest flavor!
No sweet as sweet as this!
In coming home with the empty baskets, they all know:
this is the delight,
this kind of emptiness. And how full, it is!
How sweet the mother’s love
that loves to nourish!
Filled to the brim all hearts make their way
back home as
the sun is setting
but the sky can’t keep the sun’s secret
and in her setting
and rising
shows
all of love’s splendor!
Your love has become the sky:
the sun and the moon
rising
while I pray:
When, when
will the day come
when everyday’s a picnic
when just the thought of
eating with you fills me
more than all the food in the world?
My cupped hands full of your Prasad.
Related Posts
The Coltranes and American Hinduism →
The Role of Faith in Science →
What If Animals Have Nightmares Too? →
I would have LIKED it sooner, but it was hard to find the keyboard through the tears. What an amazing heart Tadiya has, and was a voice to share it! dandavats!
Amazing poem! Jai Gaura Premanande Hari Haribol!!!
Thank you both for your kind words. I was feeling very hesitant to share this poem – so I’m glad to hear that you got something out of it 🙂 Dandavats!
Your words resonate from the sweetest place. All glories to Maha Prasad and Srila Prabhpada who taught us the wonderful transformation of food offered to God. Thank you for this!
Thank you Tadiya! This poem is so beautiful, so sublime…