New Vrindaban Brijabasi Spirit

by Mudakari dasi

In Buffalo, cold New York State,
Your spiritual journey did begin.
You met your transcendental fate
And learned to wheedle, bluff, and pin.

With incense, flowers, stickers, books,
The infamous citation line,
You brazed the laughter, scornful looks,
The “No Solicitation” fine.

From strip mall, street, and stadium,
From parking lot to prison cell,
You served as via medium
To life beyond material hell.

As son, as husband, father, friend–
In all the roles that you had played,
Your faith continued to the end,
Though Maya many traps had laid.

In my mind’s eye I still can see
Your big frame pacing endlessly
Across the polished parquet floor,
A warrior with a winning score . . .
“Um, Mukta? Krishna’s at the door.”