Blue flowers at the window
our bus careers into Zangskar
Inside, improbably juxtaposed,
the would-be inner travellers.
Village grove, slight breeze
Curious
how silently the sunlight
makes the sparrows chirp.
At Rangdom Gompa
I am glad to see
the monks still sustain
the revolutions of the Universe.
Since I was here
Yeshe Monlam, fine monk, has died
For me, remembering him
they chant the aspirations of the blessed,
dust keeps falling
from the Buddha's nose.
And in this foreign monastery
hoping to bribe the villagers
they think naive, invading
American zealots hand out the powerful drugs
of Western decadence.
Without thanks the pills are grabbed and stowed away,
later some of them -- sown into hats !
Next week
the yogins' turn.
Over the valley black mountain peers -
Am I menaced or protected?
I'm not sure
Juno Dunlak
O do not say this name;
something like darkness
touches my mind.
Khatags and incense,
offerings to the Lha.
Nobody knows
the precautions we took.
Do not ask the Gods for favours here
Evoking our own powers
alone we tread this precipice.
With no intentions
the river merely waits.
Have you got
what it takes ?
Silently communing with the Gods,
roar of river, clarity of space,
the air cooled by tumbling waters
blesses the desert with emeralds.
Fire dances in a blinding sun,
space cuts out my mind
only these feet move
elemental reverie.
Closed tents;
the sick and weary rest.
Outside
the spirits of the mountains
dance.
Powered by farts
my morning stroll
in my guts
disturbing immanence.
Water seeps from the cavern's floor
refreshment for tired travellers,
no witchcraft here
Sky drunk monks hide in the recesses of the hills.
Old Geshe with fading mind
probably no longer remembers Chandrakirti.
Beyond his window choughs whirl and stall,
in distant cells his brother monks
intone their liturgies,
with lowered eyelids over shining eyes
for seventy six years
he's seen it move.
From sperm to tsa-tsa
momentary vision.
Milarepa holds his hand to an ear
What does he hear ?
What does he hear ?
Great Guru with blazing eyes
What does he see ?
What does he see ?
Sombre scholar with learned gaze
What does he know ?
What does he know ?
Touching the earth
the Buddha's hand.
E-he - Whose fingers?
Sunfire blazes
crackling figures circle, twirl like flames,
cymbals crash, drums boom.
Black hat wizardry kills the dark and evil thing
pinioned beneath the tall flag,
bright night of the long knives,
before harvest hearts are cleansed.
High above the swirling river
what do they see,
one lamergeier and two eagles?
Pulling out
the old bus lumbers over ruts and rivulets
tired strangers wave to smiling villagers
One pen - kaka - Julai !
What have they learned
these slumped and jerking figures
dozing on the long way
August 1993