Well hidden in the Bamboo
I settle
on a slow afternoon cushion
a Buddha
with a bleached tooth smile
This is my Sangha
my place to reach
the nirvana
of a stranger's
tipped tiny hands
pressing up
all the arches
towards a heaven
She does not know
your cravings
how they enslaved you
until
I
became
your grind
you
my thrall
For years
we worked this land
sewing corpuscles crops
our acerbic toils
yielding
a verdant jungle
rife with tangled vines
to grow in my soles
She does not know
this
little
death
is the only one
I know
NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 4
I read through this poem three times. It pulls me in and says, "Listen, listen closely." Well done.
ReplyDeleteHopping by from NaPoWriMo though I'm writing poetry with the A to Z Challenge. I thought I'd check out some of the NaPo poets and I'm glad I did.
Thank you so much Willow - I am grateful to have shared the poetic journey with you these past years. I have been very inspired by your A to Z Challenge and think I may do that in May.
DeleteThere is an enlightenment in your words.Nirvana indeed! :)
ReplyDeleteThank you Sunita!
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