Mississauga, Ontario
Barry Brown
The following poem is in honour of my dear friend, Baladev, AKA Barry Brown. We traveled as monks in a small party through the United States, experiencing what most people haven’t gone through.
Baladeva / Barry Brown
I know you never knelt at a church’s pew
You were Jewish, then Vaishnava, now a “Hin-jew”
As monks in travel we looked at the bible
Viewed the Old Testament exploring the tribal
On that same motel floor you wrestled with Giri
You lost—he won, leaving you feeling weary
On behalf of Prabhupada we were in Carolina-North
Our purpose was to put publications forth
Before we had the chance, police had cuffs on our hands
Our only fault was “no permit,” those were the demands
The time in prison was a blast indeed
Requesting, “Hot milk was all that we need!”
It was just the first they had ever heard
We explained such is the case of our God, the cowherd
Once discharged we were back at the mission
Being on the road was our constitutional position
We saw Prabhupada in Atlanta—how cool
Yes, we heard from the guru as he was our jewel
You were an analyst, a thinker, became a journalist
Deep down, spiritual, not an externalist
Your book called, Humanity, raised some eyebrows
Responses were coming; many, many “Wows!”
Humour and quest were always your forte
What matters is what’s there at the end of the day
In truth you were a trite talkative for me
But still, a friend, so far as a friend can be
May the Source be with you!
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