Witness

 (These poems are Testaments of those who walk with us Tarun & Celia, with Creator's Child.)

Child of Hatred Born

Child you were by hatred born.
Child you were in hatred cradled.
Child you were on hatred fed...
And yet...
Though your skin is dark,
Your heart is not dark...

Unbruised smiles
float above your head...

The Child is both an actual avtaar and a representative of the many who have stood tall...

The Child's skin is/was literally dark. His heart glowed an orange-pink. And crown shone at times...

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-Spiritual Path, Core Truths

-Art: Shaktipats in Disguise.
-Gallery of Tarun's Spiritual Art -Critics Praise:

-Writing: - Poetry:
*Pilgrim's Progress.
*Kundalini Rising.
*Awakenings: Welcoming The Joy.
*Regenesis
* Witness
*Refusing to Fall.
*Je Suis Human.
*Rules of Life.
*Homeland

- Short Stories:
*The Merciful Tree

- Fables:

- Songs & Hymns & Video Poetry

- Mantras

Many around you learnt
the art of Knuckleduster,
Toothbrush turned to Knife,
Country Made Pistol,
The Fire that takes the slum,
The Walk that Struts,
The Claymore's Joys...
The Price of Bureaucrat,
The Honey Trap...
The Code of Nuke...

You too could have learnt
The truth of pain...
Instead you learnt the truth
Of ray through cloud...

The escalation from knuckleduster to Nuke reveals the progress from slum to the slum of Boston Brahmin... Both being slums...

The Child actually was mean with a knife and was being who learnt to shine with love...

- Articles: uploaded at creatorschild.com, Tickle Newsletter, edited by Tarun & Celia Cherian

The tree that springs
From rotting leaf reveals
A brighter green.

Here is the stranger twist
The greater love is not
By love held, or fed...

This is one of God's greatest dilemma. From hate can spring the brightest Love...

The dawn awaits the day,
When you touch
The barbed wire
And it buds...

-Tarun Cherian

*FREE: Big Treasures in Little Pockets. uploaded @ creatorschild.com
*FREE: The Hour Before Dawn. uploaded @ creatorschild.com

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Deeper Explanation:

Who is this child? Baby Jesus? Lord Krishna? In our healings we have encountered so many of you, who grew up in terrifying ugliness, but have not practised what was fed with mother’s milk, or father’s hands, or uncle’s touch, or aunt’s poison, or fear, hatred, rage, greed, ugliness...

Child abused for 9 years and then told to marry your tormentor you did not learn fear, instead make music so joyous Europe dances...

2 year old baby, you are beaten, kicked, literally flung across the room, you are mother, and mother to many.

You sold into slavery, who reveal rare joy in art...

We treasure and marvel at each of you...

And so this poem is both you...

And... the revelation of one of our spirit guides who is nurturing a slum kid, who knows knife and real love...

This poem is part of a set of poetry, not the kind
Tarun usually writes... But... well... read onyou will see...

Does The Word of God spoken by Man Remain The Word of God?

God spoke to me.

I took it down word by word.

Faithfully, I spoke it.

But where his voice moved the mountains,
mine barely shifts the wax in your ear.

Does the word of God spoken by man,
remain the word of God?

I understand I am a Parrot, not even a Man.
But I am your parrot, Dear God.
Does that not count for something? I ask.
You laugh, Dear God, so loud, even lightning shivers.
My ears fly off, my flesh shreds, my bones are gnawed by rats...
Then, when I am a scarf of wind... I speak...
I do not recognise my voice,
now wind-whisper, now thunderous...

-- Tarun

Deeper Explanation: We hear God. But how much of God can we hear? We speak English. He speaks infinity.

Desert Rain

The dry deserts lips are cracked,
So gently the dark night unbuttons her blouse.

If a drop falls on the meditator’s head,
And he were to cry out… ‘I know what Lord Shiva felt…’
Who will object?

 

References
We were at Palli’s discussing an incident in Rajasthan, when a Gujarati phrase, of breast feeding popped out. As we found it fascinating, and the desert discussion contrasted against the earthy Gujju phrase, it became the nub of a crude poem, in Gujarati, which is retranslated to this in English.

Now when we look at auras of storms and rain we often see a deep bond between the ground and the sky.

Some references to complete the poem’s setting: The scene is set in Rajasthan’s Aravalli mountains – low hills, clouds above, scrub and sand below. The Lord Shiva reference – obviously points to the descent Ganga Devi on Lord Shiva’s head. The Meditator’s Chakra stimulated – is again obviously the Crown Chakra.