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A North Indian Christian - Visitor's Poem

by Pranitha Devi Wickins
(Pietermaritzburg; kwazulu Natal, South Africa)


I love my beautiful culture
It's the essence of my style
The jewelry and punjabies
The saries brighten my smile

I was born a North Indian
A Hindu, if you will
My people are my mentors
My roots I could never kill

I love the celebration of light
The remembrance of the dead
The grace of the women
The bryani we are fed

The lessons that are taught
Are of love and generosity
And humility and peace being roads to prosperity

The only thing I lacked
To complete the wholeness of my being
Is a more personal friendship with my maker,
upon whom I could lean

Behold, I found my precious saviour, His Spirit, My Lord
He listens and he guides me, my Redeemer, my God
I will always have my culture
Of which I am so proud
And now I found my Heavenly Father
Who seeks me in the crowd

He doesn't judge the clothes I wear
Or the language that I speak
And he doesn't seem to really care
If I eat chicken curry or stewed beef.

But he searches every corner
Of my mind and soul and being
And lets me know in no uncertain terms
Of any negatives he is seeing

In the quietness of my stillness
I hear his gentle prompting
As he disciplines and guides me
No curses or strange hauntings!

I feel him smiling gently
When, dressed in my favorite sari
I kneel down at his alter
And we speak without hurry.

P.D.W 8/07/2010


Copyright © 2010. Pranitha Devi Wickins,
(A.k.a Nisha Wickins). All rights reserved.


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