AT THE PORT CITY
- Bhaktimarga Swami
- 5 days ago
- 1 min read
Updated: 12 hours ago
Saturday, August 15th, 2026
Saint John/Moncton, New Brunswick
AT THE PORT CITY
Where land and sea meet
And sun and fog greet
The gulls do squawk
And the cruises will dock
The port city is alive
And the tide did arrive
Three monks on foot passed by
A motorist who said “Hi!”
He goes by the name Sahil
Who’s missing his mom’s meal
He was on the call
When she was cooking dahl
She was ten hours ahead
A call from India, he said
I am one of those monks
A witness in the street of drunks
Sahil chased after us
Thinking it would be a plus
To meet men in robes
Three large orange microbes
We reminded him of home
Where people do chant OM
And he’s a security guard
Where people are barred
Checking unwanted aggression
Perhaps that’s the lesson
Sahil can learn something here
You can’t push out of fear
You can’t just do what you want
You behave in a restaurant
Behave at home, work, in the park
In the day or at dark
Life poses restrictions
Otherwise there’s addictions
Like the neighbourhood here
You need that head to get clear
So then without a gap
I met another chap
As I finished this poem
I then got to know him
He told me his story
On this very fine morning
– Bhaktimarga Swami
MAY THE SOURCE BE WITH YOU
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