|Image Arun Bansal|
If you haven’t stood still and smelled your rankness;
haven’t been walled in, contained, desperate
to freefall into fresh, swirl to someplace else,
tired of knocking against the bricks of wells.
If you haven’t dried into a narrow smudge
or a slimy thread of odorous sludge;
if you haven’t faced down that final threat
that sucks off moisture from each drop of breath
and hangs it up between deathlike and death -
you haven’t learnt what waters teach us yet.
The lotus blooms only when waters still;
and still can be rank, but also tranquil.
Even rankness is a gift, nothing to spurn;
waters flow, and still, and stagnate by turns.
Because a friend posted that breath-taking waterscape, and the caption on it ran something like "Let your life be like flowing water, stagnant waters smell." And because I have been, um, slightly challenged in the smelling department for a long time now : )