A Poem for Srila Prabhupada(published in BTG 1996) By Kalakantha Dasa
You could have stayed in Vrindavan where chanting is most sweet,or moved to holy Navadvipin spiritual retreat.
Your godbrothers had temples therewith room enough for youto sit and preach each Gaura Purnimato a visitor or two.
You could have said: “It’s Krsna’s will -my visa was denied;
I may have failed but now I knowat least that I have tried.”
Your patron said you’d die abroad;your godbrother just scoffed; you could have said, “who’ll meet me at the boat,and guide me safely off?”
“The westerners,” you could have said,“Can go to hell and stay.”Who would have disagreed with you?We were well on our way.
Instead you lay your final yearslike flowers at Krsna’s feet,Siddhanta’s smile your hidden guide,Thakura’s vision in reach.
Producing eighty volumesas you guided us along,You showed us how to cook Prasadand preach Lord Krsna’s song.
And as we preach, the boys and girlsfrom every land on earthcome forth to serve you, Prabhupada,renewed in second birth.
I could have been a doctor,had I but stay in school;might have made a couple of million,built a fancy house and pool.
I could have written novels,legislated laws and rules;I could have been a music star;I could have been just cool.
Instead I laid my youthful yearslike flowers at your feet;Malpooras caused my interest,samosas my defeat.
My dad said, “Son you’re brainwashed!”My friend said, “You’re a fool!”My shortfalls as Vaisnavanumbered many, victories few.
Reflecting on my bygone youth,(as at mid-life one is prone)I wouldn’t trade your glance for gold,your words for precious stones.
This morning on the japa trail,The northern star shone down;so fixed and true, it seemed like you,with devas circling round.
But dawn concealed that heavenly stageand lit a wintry scene,of all I am, and all you are,and all that lies between.
