Free Verse
Nimbus
In the
nimbus of dreams
calluses emerge of memories
still unhealed beneath
membranes of time.
Verdant bands of firs
float … meld with altars
alit with rows of butter lamps.
My father is a voice,
mother is a *bulbul.
Waves of flames
boil over icy slopes.
I am canoeing
down coin –paved
roads.
Out of the blue-black night
an ivory globe of hemlock
spins into my hand.
I raise it to the dark
and drink.
Is this the truth
of Socratic sacrifice?
The *Dakini laughs,
and tosses the moon.
Stars tumble in skeins
of light and shadow.
Into the whorls
of a red lotus
I sink
in a hush so deep
I hear my thoughts.
What
is there to Know?
Hole in
the clouds –
the sun greedily melts
ice on the roof
drip, drip, drip
blood and saline
down clear long tubes.
Against the white sheet
the violet of bruised hand
name on the tag in black.
Measured beat by beat
on the Endocardiogram
in ticks and notes on charts
by the foot of the bed.
Slowly thoughts empty …
Blackened Moon
It is you
who wants to draw the moon
with blackened stones.
An ebony slash
across its swelling face.
The hills undulate
wave upon wave of words
that froth and flow
past the temple, over the stone bridge
to a fork in the road.
Should I follow the flash
in the distance
or should I stand
under this old weeping cypress
and wait for you
to un-stain the moon?
Notes:
*bulbul: Song bird native to South and East Asia
*Dakini : Female deity in Tibetan Buddhist pantheon.
Haibun
Light of
Emptiness
Muslin-blind
clouds filter the early autumn sun. A young crow floats out
from the trees, flutters its wings, floats again and alights
on the dark tip of a fir. Hidden from view its raspy caw
echoes down the old cattle track.
thinning
foliage—
the sound of the river
and then the stone bridge
A mosaic of
spoors leads to the river. Twigs, chestnut pods and
yellowing leaves swirl around moss-moulded stones. I wade
across the shallow bank. On the gravel bed there are no
further imprints of pugmarks.
Last night, reading my late father’s copy of the Bardo
Teachings* I noticed he had marked a passage, the fine,
indigo print recognizably that of his Parker,:
‘When the dead person walks into the sun, he sees no shadow;
when he looks into a mirror he sees no reflection; when he
steps out of the stream he has no footprints. In this way he
learns that he is dead …’
On another page he had underlined:
‘Between the first and second day you will see the light
of Vairocana, the white light of the Mirror-like Wisdom
...’
In the grove, trees mesh the sky. Leaves glow a pale jade
against the dark tracery of veins. In swift, sudden
movements bulbuls flit and call in the undergrowth. I sit on
a moss-embossed oak stump. The wind and the river become a
long murmur of prayer. This is a place I visit even in
dreams.
translucent
light
under the old stone bridge—
patches of nettles
Where have
I gone?
I look at you in
the cot. Your tummy rises and falls with each breath. You
smell so alive! Did I really once carry you inside?
I dreamed to hold you, nuzzle you, bathe you. But when you
came I slid away to a nameless direction-less place. How did
I arrive here? How can I leave?
You sleep, feed, sleep, gurgle, yawn and burp.
mountain
road—
beyond each hairpin bend
more fog
The family fears
I’ve lost my life force and need the healing deities. So the
monks are called. They invoke the Buddha of Boundless
Light;* their cymbals clang at the ghouls who have entrapped
my mind, their thighbone trumpets blow at the flames that
have charred my spirit. They light a hundred and eight
butter lamps to light my way out of this chasm. They burn
juniper and sandalwood in swirls of prayers.
I smell the incense and the burning of wicks. I see the
silhouette of the flames flickering on the wall. No luminous
Rainbows of Bliss* lighten the horizon. The mantras are
faint echoes in the distance.
sleepless at
dawn—
through the open window
sunlight on distant hills
You wriggle your
pebble-like toes. You cry out. You crease your eyes in
smiles.
I don’t know for how long I’ll be gone …
cave temple—
each butter lamp I light
gutters in the wind
Notes:
*Bardo Teaching: A Tibetan Buddhist text.
*Buddha of Boundless Light: (YO-BA-MAY) (Tibetan: Od-dpa'-med)
(Sanskrit: Amitabha). Invoked in exorcism rites.
*Rainbows of Bliss: A quote from the text, Natural
Liberation Padmasambhava's Teachings on the Six Bardos.
About
Sonam Chhoki, Bhutan (BT)
Sonam Chhoki
was born and brought up in the eastern Himalayan
Kingdom of Bhutan. He has been writing poetry for the last
five years. Three of his free verse poems have been included
in the Love and Epiphany anthologies of
Magnapoets in spring and summer 2011. His haiku, tanka and
haibun have been published in Acorn, Atlas Poetica,
Asahi, CHO, Eucalypt, Frogpond, Haibun Today, Heron's Nest,
Kikakuza Haibun contest 2011, Mainichi, Modern Haiku,
Ribbons and Simply Haiku,
This is
Sonam Chhoki's first Sketchbook appearance.
