yogi don’t turn your longing into sound-bite answers
some things long to be said. but they do not wish
for the saying to be their unconcealment.
some poems hunger to be written but their words resist,
desiring also the sensuous obscurity of
in moments of hungry daring they long to fill the
world soul with
turquoise brilliant premonitions
the plentiful mercies of spring flowers,
the tiny house of dreams left by twilight thunder.
but there is enjoyment in the veiling play of light and shadow where whispered words never shout, proclaim, boast but
lip to ear like a kiss,
a rumor of things
happily, here, in the bedroom of my heart you and i have fallen back across the bed of appearance and there is no one to eavesdrop
on our murmuring
and when life’s blood spills out across the snow
what words will you speak?
what story will you tell to the child
whose mother hits her?
what whispered lullaby will make right the red? and
also assuage the wolf’s hunger.
oh yogi don’t turn your longing into sound-bite answers,
cutesy facebook cat pictures, the carefully crafted indifference
even in this culture of distractions
and wealth ....the great question
of life and death
is finality. - t.k.
t.k., tsogyelgar, traktung khepa