My Bodhi
(Dedicated to Thich Nhat Hanh. Died 22 January 2022)
I sleep in a night when all dreams
are contained in a small wooden casket;
there, a million questions of awe —
are resurrected every daylight.
For three years and more
I wander and wonder —
a quest where mountains bow to river,
clouds are formed into water,
woods turned to ashes,
body becomes earth.
Like a butterfly, I fly
for only a few days — and die.
Then, if my wings float in the wind
and kiss the most beautiful flower
that rests in the sky —
I pray that the morning sun
finds delight in this simplest
offering of final obedience.
Then, when I become rain —
and come back to earth:
I shall pay reverence to this tree
where roots are so deep,
piercing the core of my heart.
Photography by Leah Dancel.
(Dedicated too to my fellow Thich Nhat Hanh followers Hedda Tady, Gil Marvel P. Tabucanon, Gerardreyes Avengerard Walsch)
