Mirabai Rode Her Donkey Naked: Three poems in 4:33

Michelle Y. Valladares

Mirabai and her joyous bhakti

Mirabai Rode Her Donkey Naked

Mirabai rode her donkey naked
through the village and countryside

singing bhajans to Lord Krishna
they tried to poison her, called her mad.

In a few months a pandemic has silenced 

countries, shut down economies, killed 

thousands in Italy, Queens and Brooklyn

deer wander through the suburbs

wild pigs forage in the streets
swans return to canals
two cardinals eat berries and seeds
from china on a fire escape
the blue planet spins in its orbit 

Who calls who mad? 
Sages/oracles/poets
we need Sappho, Rumi, Shantideva 

I hear the bird song opera
mixed with sirens
and your breath
and my breath

Banjo Player, Opera for Omar Ibn Said


                        for Rhiannon Giddens

banjo player, opera for Omar Ibn Said

singer/composer uninterested in the “self”

what remains is your history, culture, moonlight,
paleontological time, memories of ocean

in summer, clear quarry pools
music that played on the radio
when we were fifteen
the spring you built a canoe
from a tree trunk
the spruce we lay under to make love
until the midges arrived
hikes on Thursday mornings

to the bay and up the cliffs
we thought time was on our side

ignored our fragility
the wonder of a deep breath
we ignored warning signs
did not read the reports
of deaths in other countries
we believed in borders
and an inherently existent self 

lost in blossoms of magnolia and cherry
forgetting our inter-dependence
that germs do not discriminate
we forge our brave new world
through the portal of kindness

Once we met in a Cafe

Once we could meet in a cafe
drink our expressos, lean in, chat 

Once we could hug when we said “hello”

or “good bye” or “stop by later” 

Once we could plant spring bulbs
in the garden side by side


Once we could let our dogs off lead, greet
each other’s dogs without heed 

Once we could toast with a glass of wine

put our heads together to take selfies 

Once we could run upstairs or next door
for hot sauce or sour cream 

Once we could cry on each other’s shoulders

visit our sick friends, hold each other’s hands 

Once we could tell bad jokes
over the copy machine 

Once upon a time. 

Michelle Y. Valladares is a poet, author and filmmaker.  She is the Director of the MFA Program in Creative Writing and Lecturer in English at the City College of New York located in Harlem.