SAINT THOMAS, VERSES 115-120
Mark Traill
26 April 2008, 17:21Changing train at Galka
For journeys in the cloud
I reminisce of loneliness
As landscapes roll around
Wooden trains in foothills
Climb tracks of smaller width
The sojourn is most comfortable
Though seats are very thin
I sit upon my backpack and
Sip water with the natives
Refill my cup at Barog
Continue looking plaintive
Reach Shimla at six thirty
The air is cool and clear
I pay a porter, ‘haul my bags
A room that’s good and near’
A week I have hot water
TV, a couch and desk
Lavatory, toilet paper
And pillows in my bed
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
་ཡིད་བཞིན་ནོར་བུ
This dream is a call
I am one and all
Or nothing at all
Then, a great jewel
As round as a ball
Sapphire, emerald
White satin clouds
Ruby ‘pon centre
Souls on the ground
She is the earth
The place of my birth
I turn her in hand
Licking the sand
Mountains in fists
Tsunami on wrists
I sit at this desk
Where Gautma exists
Pluck up the courage
Put pencil in motion
And ride Vayu’s wind
Deep in the ocean
Searching for guru
Our teacher, a man
So many names
Wasn’t part of the plan
I am distracted
The green of Manali
Forget of my journey
To Lama, to Dhali
Rapture in flesh
Joy in his bones
“Forget Dharamsala
I’m currently not home
The trek is too long
Don’t measure in miles
Enlightenment comes
As long as you smile”
རྒྱལ་བ་རིན་པོ་ཆེ
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
My health’s improving
Though still hard on moving
Air in these foothills
Would appear to be soothing
Gasp to the vendors
As lovers pass by
Smoke beedis
Eat cherries
Elope in the sky
In the room next door
(That’s room number four)
Is a lady called Fleur
Who photos the poor
American made
With eyes set in jade
She’s lonely you see
So invites me for tea
Milkshake on terrace
Beedis and cherries
Laughing together
It isn’t forever
Holding my hand
Feels fine ‘til I stand
I’ve seen that smile
I know those eyes
That flick of the hair
The laughter that sighs
I tell her I like her
But she isn’t sold
She asks me is it
Because she is old
She knows I’m a liar
And I feel no desire
‘A reflection on me
The timing is dire’
She wants no friendship
She wants no love
She wants to feel
Like a woman
Don’t judge
She’s so disappointed
She cries and she laughs
Of stories of men
Who took her and loved
I want to cry too
But I can’t, just listen
The passion is damp
She just doesn’t glisten
She told me she loved me
I said “you’re high”
She thinks I’m serene
I said “it’s contrived”
