Young Siddharta

(for Ali)

His mouth curves
like a ripple on the river Ganges
owes a spiritual debt
to the wandering sage-gods of India.

His eyes pierce with the fire of Malcolm X
with the spirit of a Black Panther
with the tumult of the sixties revolution -
and that to peace.

His cheeks pure pleasure
rival Eros for perfection
Aphrodite surely smiles
on the good humoured calm
he exudes amid the adulation.

His nose could be compared
to a much loved Greek warrior
who travelled to the land of the Lotus Eaters
or, he could be a follower of great Plato
but more probably Socrates.

His hair is pure Oscar Wilde - spirit of Bohemia.

He stands straight and tall
as might Cleopatra's soldier Anthony
but he camps not upon some barren hill
waiting for sunrise and a battle to begin
but squarely, gleefully shoulder to shoulder
steeped in poetry of his era –
riding the wave, sometimes sordid
sometimes ecstatic as only a hero might.

His face could be a young Siddharta
before spreading middle-age set in
before Nirvana slowed him down
to sit, forever smiling, beneath
his tree of lightening beams.



Pamela Sidney 2002