Sunday November 14
*
A glimpse
forth to
the leading light of my long day
slight gentle beautiful determined bright one
patiently making her way
she 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 how I continue to spin
the thread for the loom
as that upon which we weave
the fabric of our destiny together
and of where the Cheto chu
and Yakra chu have worn
deep into the earth
as their waters flow together
to become the Dardo
at the center of Chakla Kingdom
this place they call Dartsedo
Look beautiful one
at the buildings
one after another row on row
with plain facades
where no one lives
and no pilgrims come
we descend to one to see
what purpose there might be
to such an austere place
Then the stillness broken
as the sound of horses hooves
braying donkeys
and grunting yaks
animated voices
laughter and the thud of heavy
burdens comes to our ears
as we enter the great gates
there piled high
box upon box
sturdily made
of bamboo cane
one crashes from the stack
breaks open to our nostrils
the smell of twigs and leaves
dried upon warm hillsides
much less rugged than these
it’s tea they're bringing gentle one
the drink of life
for every Tibetan
Water from the gathered snow
fire of burning yak dung
wind roughened nomad hands pull
out a small heap of the vital herb
into the cast iron vessel it goes
a quiet mantra whispered in the fire’s glow
the click of the prayer beads
then the kettle emptied
to strain the dark black tea
she to taste the precious draught
clear tea with a pinch of salt
and chew on a softened stem
As she opens the mar- ril
yak skin case to break off
a chunk of dri butter
into the churn it goes
the salt to follow
it from the great plain
to the north of the marshes of Dawazhung
together they are churned
with the cooling so- ja butter tea
as everyone files into
the tent
pulling their wooden bowls
from their pockets
never to be left empty
as the evening wends on
and the fire throws shadows
from its flickering dance
upon the dark yak cloth
and the wind blows outside
with the first flakes
of the winter’s snow
Everywhere it is the same
in the Land of Snows
whether in the courtyard
with debating monks
amused grins and steaming bowls
or beneath snow mountains
massive rising to the sky
glowing orange in the afternoon sun
above their dark shadowy depths
comforting warmth
in a merchant’s solitary journey
or before a cave as a shepherdess
sits with her flock to rest
and pour the sustaining brew
as the steam rises around her hair
among it’s ornaments of amber, turquoise
and zhi
and a flock of birds
rises into the azure sky
the cha the tea it always came
from these buildings plain
and large in the city
of Dartsedo
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 early afternoon
of our fall 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
November 9
* courtesy of A Luminous Diamond (Bright) Crystal Show productions.
reference material for the poem is courtesy of the Footprint Tibet handbook by Gyurme Dorje.