My father

On dark nights he acquired the luminosity of an astral body. He would smile through the clouds .The cloud’s shapes were mysterious and friendly .

I can see him there when the sky is bare of the white fluffy clouds and in the blue distance the mountains pile on one another.

On the day of the holy bath, he comes riding on the ripples of the sacred river .On the annual ritual day the crow becomes him , pecking at balls of cooked rice .Other times he stays in my dreams.

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