By Malinda Meadows
Tapering down a maze of mirrors
Each one reflecting me
I see a million figures
Dancing in the dust
Of golden filegree
Dark mother of the spiral
Alone in every one
The tapa burning brightly
On songs that I have sung
Voices I have lilted
And changes that have rung
Like great holy bells echoing
For the call of prayer
Like twigs bound with string
And a promise
Dancing in fire.
Poems of the yantra 