Sunday May 2
*
A glimpse back
upon the steep climb
to the leading light of my long day
slight gentle beautiful determined bright one
firmly alone firmly herself
to quietly remind me
that not so far away
for she I we two
our warm and bright
future day
and to her then to say to tell
of a sacred waterfall
swirls of light and sound
flickering between mountain light
and deep green emerald shade
the waterfall of Drime Kunden
Bodhisattva prince
Once in darkened shade
not so benign
the roar of enraged king
echoing over smooth polished stone
beneath a great and magnificent throne
Wherefore gave you this my son
this magnificent jewel so fine
emerald that I regard
as much as mine own eyes
A quiet gentle voice replied
many jewels are here
this was to be mine and so I gave it
to one that needed it more than I
lost to harsh extremity in greatest need
though enemy of the throne
still human and does not
the Buddha teach
that enemies are to be prized
enabling patience as none
else can do
Begone return no more
no fit son of mine are you
worthless as the sintered stone
the cutters hurl from the height
from blocks newly fashioned
for temple walls
if generous would you be
go in rags then in turn to see
the true cruel nature of beast and man
Drime Kunden staggered from
the hall in tears
To wander through the years
from one place to the next
then to Brahmaputra valley
the place now called Kongpo
seemly by chance to meet
an enlightened one
why have you come here
in royal raiment now in rags
I have been sent here
in exile from a father’s wrath
I gave that which more he prized
than my own sight in his countenance
Come then and remain
for you are one of worth
a gift I will bestow to you
one that you will only know
at the moment of your greatest need
and that Drime Kunden did
beside a cliff from whence did flow
a waterfall formed of his own tears
for the suffering of beings
ever touches the heart of such a one
Perchance to wander the woods nearby
in search of meager sustenance
to come upon terrifying place
where stones were slick with human blood
one of the great tigers had struck
the hapless traveler again as so oft
they did in rage as much as hunger
to leave torn flesh and cloth
in miserable heap
another soul lost
to family and to friends
He quietly stood there
upon his lips a mantra
a prayer of compassion to guide the
soul on to another existence
but he was not alone
the quiet prayer cut short
by rippling growl
his life surely at an end
Tear dimmed travel worn eyes
looked into baleful gaze
amber light blazing hate
and he heard himself say quietly
though enemy of your throne
still human and does not
the Buddha teach
that enemies are to be prized
enabling patience as none
else can do
In a flash the reply came to him
for this was the yogin’s shamanic gift
to him had been given
the means to communicate with all of life
in a universal tongue that all beings
know that exist upon the earth
the sight of a mother tiger hunted
dragging bleeding misery into the deep grass
from the excited voices of hunting party royal
torn with arrows agonizing death
beside her cubs but newly weaned
upon the hard unyielding stone
of cave floor in the darkness
but one to survive the intervening years
exacting implacable revenge
born of grief and rage
Drime Kunden sat at the tiger’s feet
his words to bring the only healing
an anguished heart will ever know
Look beautiful one there are flowers here
rhododendrons beside an ancient shrine
a spring whose water even now
benefits the sight
of any who have need
above the waterfall a hermitage
of his wife Tsampo Mendrel Tsema
she who joined him in this place
and a platform on the ledge
where dakini Goddesses dance
in wondrous power upon the stone
All this not so wonderful
to my straining eyes
as your determined beauty
and uplifted gentle dignity
that endures with patient grace
this that I see in you
beneath the open sky
on this afternoon
of our spring of working and waiting
Lotus blossoms rest
upon the window sill
and so we wait
two as one
we our effort
real and lasting
slight gentle
beautiful one
April 29
* courtesy of A Luminous Diamond (Bright) Crystal Show productions.
reference material for the poem is courtesy of the Footprint Tibet handbook by Gyurme Dorje.