Prayer flags in Kathmandu, Nepal |
I Close My Eyes to See the World
I leave Kathmandu by bus
on a smog-sunny afternoon
after watching cremations
across Bagmati River. I lay
a thin scarf along my west-facing
arm to shield from sun.
Beneath the dark cotton,
my skin looks the color of ash.
But I am alive. I close my eyes.
In the lull and lurch of rough road,
I doze. The city goes on for traffic hours.
I open my eyes to steep villages,
to rice terraces lipping down the hills.
I close my eyes. The scarf above my body
becomes a prayer flag kissing
my skin. Have I embodied prayer?
The bus steels to a stop. I open my eyes
in a sleepy blink and think
I see a strand of prayer flags.
But no—a line of laundry
bright with the same five colors—
clothing for bodies belonging
to spirits I’ll never meet.
I close my eyes on this bus
full of people wrapped in prayers,
wondering at our highest arrival.
Behind my eyes, worlds form with new
words for old fabrics and habits.
I don’t know if I am praying
them or they are praying me.
1 comment:
Wow, Anna! "Have I embodied prayer?" Now there's a deep and vitally important question I have not heard asked before. Your beautiful poem brought tears to my eyes. The conclusion is a stunning revelation. I wish more people could feel this way when visiting another country. Perhaps they would bring home more goodwill toward the rest of the world, and that could only bring us closer to a place where we could all live together in peace. Tears flowing again...thank you for doing your part so well to sow the seeds of beauty, peace, and brotherhood among all people by sharing your experiences and feelings with such profound and insightful words.
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