Friday, December 11, 2015

Poem: mother


If you feel the hatred

of the 300 who died beside you


breasts dry

bones blackening waxpaper 


if you feel rage toward China

eating beaten 

leather again and again

in each telling

rip you

30 years in jail

off beaten shoes

your son torn from you drowned

your daughter restored at 27

whom you cannot call

if you feel laughter that

love of silence

goes on and on and on

out a jail window like a seabird

soaring the horizon

on and

let the nyingma lama

also a prisoner

smoke incense sticks 


on the left shoulder

and below the heart

move slowly toward

and to the right


smokes up

87 years



with woodencane

three times around the kora

darkmountain Dharamsala

every morning

at 3 AM


Ama (Mother) Adhe spoke to the 16 of us from the University of Denver at Tibet World in Dharmsala.  For an account of an earlier talk and another poem "Counting" about her story, see here and here.

1 comment:

Linda Thomas said...

The poem is so unique and interesting that I feel all experiences of the author. I know this can sound strange but these are my real feelings. You can find my poems and thoughts at my web-site .

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