National Poetry Month, Day #29

Remembering Bali

Water, Rice, and Song

View from my terrace. Watercolor sketch by Author

Water sings a silver hymn
from mountain to hillside to field —
each terrace a green breath
held in the hush of morning.

Palms stand like sentinels,
to frame the slow, deliberate art
of offering and harvest.

Gentle gamelan notes rise —
bright as coins tossed to the sky —
music of hammered light and prayer.

Blue smoke curls from shrines,
scented with frangipani and clove.
A woman’s hand scatters rice,
blessings for the gods,
and the gods reply in birdsong.

Every carving, every bowl of flowers,
every chant rising with incense
says: We are here.
We remember.
We give back.

Even now,
the island sings beneath my ribs,
pulling me gently homeward —
again,
again.