Bali

                       by Beryl Dov Lew

From Cumulus clouds of swan wing's down
Dewi Sri powders her nose and glances down
At rice terrace emeralds, her earthly crown,
And she blushes green, with a puzzled frown
At the mosaic her divine reflection's shown.












 Bali, the sacred and profane circle of song --
 where buses honk at cars
 where cars honk at motorcycles
 where motorcycles honk at bikes
 where bikes honk at geese
 where geese honk at buses
 where demons pick their toes at intersections
 where white and black magic meet
 where serpents entertain babies with rattles
 where dance is a trance and drum is a beat
 where the natives ask me
 






where are from and
 where are you going?
 where I answer 

to Bali, 
the hand mirror of the Goddess, Dewi Sri,
to Bali,
my home,
my destiny.