Bhuchung D. Sonam
I am what I am
One for all
All for none,
An empty crevice
A full stomach,
Oft fool, seldom wise,
A child in a man's shoe
Geared to walk on a stony path,
Craves to crush those dried leaves
Turns on when a dg barks,
Snores hard on a soporific talk,
I once owned a pea-shooter
Now a pen that writes -
'I abhor the new moon night
Darkness invokes dreams abase,
Drunken man, jumping snakes,
Crooning jackals and shattered sleep.
Yet on the full moon night
I sleep to dream…
Green for leaves
Blue for oceans
White for snows,
And when the morn arrives
A child in man's shoe
I am what I am.
Dedicated to the imprisoned Tenzin Delek Rinpoche, Bangri Rinpoche and Lobsang Tenzin
When I think of it, what do they have to do with me?
Palden Gyatso1, imprisoned for thirty-three years;
Ngawang Sangdrol2, locked up since she was twelve;
then the newly-freed Phuntsok Nyidron 3
and Lobsang Tenzin4, imprisoned somewhere.
I don’t know them, really, haven’t even seen their photos.
I only saw on the web, in front of an old lama,
shackles, sharp knives, cattle prods with multiple functions.
Loose skin, bony cheeks, furrowed wrinkles,
a recognizable handsomeness from his youth,
a beauty that doesn’t belong to the mundane.
Becoming a monk early in life,
the Buddha’s spirit glows in his face. ...
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