Poetry and Fiction - Diffusion

by Harleen Kaur

Behind closed eyes
In the tender passion of a dream,
I behold
The breathing beauty of stone bodies
fleshing the temple walls;
Gods
wearing bodies of painted stone,
worshipped by men.
...Men?
Or Gods in flesh
with forgotten memories?
For, who can tell
the difference between
God and man and stone?
Carve the iconoclast's face in a rock,
And the passing years
make him a God.
And who knows
If the prisoner's stripes are not holier
than the sages saffron?