Aghori Baba Circling Back
by Justine Mara Andersen
Having bowed under one, a dozen blew in on the wind,
Dancing dispassionate circles in the sky.
Some see you as ugly, grim, inauspicious and turn away,
I see truth in the center of your soaring.
Circling high, circling low, black winged Babas all,
In all they are, they teach all that we are.
Into their bellies then high above the thriving trees,
Wrinkled red-faced Gurus carry death like Gods.
Above samsara my Aghori Babas circle as all must circle,
Earth to death, birth to sky, sky to earth.
All that dissolves is destroyed by Mahadev’s dancing,
All that dances is destroyed as it is doing.
All that dies is reborn through Mahadev’s destruction,
All that falls must rise again to the dancing.
So why fear losing that which is released into flight,
Only once dissolved in bellies and destruction.
What greater victory over fear than bowing to vultures,
Jai Jai Shiva Shankar! Jai Jai Shiva Shambho,
What greater victory over death than red and black Babas,
Who fly the rot of death in their bellies.
Jai! To carry death above the trees! I bow in devotion,
Har Har Mahadev! Har Har Mahadev!