In Varanasi

In Varanasi by the burning ghats The worn stone steps lead down to the river. On the far side Ghostlike The flatlands Who goes there Is not the same as us Divided by the water. I’m on the top step Sometime I’ll step down Onto the next step Slight concave Where others shuffled down before me. It takes many naked feet To wear down stone Day after day Year after year But there are many of us Who step into the river. The last step Where the water forms pools in the footsteps. What is that Across the river Who is it that calls out So early in the morning?