Driving down the road I pass fires
flickering from a thousand shacks.
The aroma of burning wood, incense, and cow dung
wafts through air hazy from the smoke.
Overhead, planes climb skyward to distant lands.
I, too, will fly away in a day.
But Kolkata’s aroma will follow me.
May these offerings of survival and suffering
reach the nostrils of God.
And may God visit Kolkata
with His Spirit’s transforming fire.