Lamar Howell's Weblog

I come to Vrindivan

not to live, but to die.

My head is shaved,

my jewelry sold for rice

and a white sarape.

I am one of ten thousand widows here.

They say those who die in Vrindivan will not return

to live again and suffer.

I want this deliverance

Next to rice

it is my greatest desire.

I remember my old life in the village

I had my home and a husband

my mango tree

Ponds, all full of fish.

I had everything

Now, I am forgotten

But I have my dignity

I am worth a hundred of my relatives

I am happiness itself

Happiness is my other name.

O Lord, help me

Hare, Hare Krishna

What am I to do?