Buddha Image


1
wood worn naked round the chest
the gold leaf flaking
the splintered foot with its wormholes

such blossoms

2
two hands open
softly raised

the forefingers cocked over
touching each thumb-tip

between them
a thread of silence

of how I don’t know
being held
in the nothing he knows


3
My need swells up, swallows its howl, stands like a rock.

Shape it, rub the rough surface bare-handed.

Polish it with the tattered skin of all these years.

As he arises, strides
out of the roar that was once a howl,

all that mass, faces peeling off, heaving with cries,
sees its strange beauty.


4
On the other side of solitude
the broad harbour

small boats perch on their reflections
an egret unfolds into its white

in the misty town
we’ll talk again




Posted: Sun 20 Mar, 2016