Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Poem: into the cold


      
eagles circle mountain mist

soar slow slow   slo  ly

in and out

morningmist

high

over Dharamsala


you are almost calm here


wind horses float orange purple yellow laundry

gracefully

flap balconies

yellow banners

plant the mountains

almost


your father made the family

listen to Dalai Lama

radio

and your brother struck out for India

you jumped to go

to Lhasa to wash dishes

then with a guide who had not been

a shadow


lost the track north north north

mostly children

across  the snow


no path

Chinese soldiers with gunsgunsguns

at night

blazing

amidst lurking shadows


had to doubleback

bluedemons


one night wolves cornered a monk in a cave

and cold

pulled a rock over the opening

Lord of the Dead

silvery teeth

given up for


blazing eyes


walked back alive

in the good morning


copulating


one day in the snow

without food

elaborate flakes curlingsoft

a girl’s finger

against your face

hour after

lie close close close

nose in the snow


turned blue


to breathe


one night in the highHimalayas

jumpjumpjump  

down down

down

from the frozen

where you cannot see



six months


and pray


no food

skidding

Yama

Lord of the Dead


eagles circle

morning mist

in Dharamsala



to find the way

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