Crossing Dharma~

It was Ak Ana

dressed

in white ascendance

who descended

red beryl emeralds wound through her moonlight hair

a bleedwood box tucked into her sash of crystal satellites

orbiting her transparent waist

she gave crescent smile in silver

and I, delighted by the joke,

gentled

whispered

“You are crossing geographical mythologies.”

to which

she shrugged a star from her shoulders

“It’s been a slow eon, open to play.”

she winked

the box extended

her arm a ash bow

insisting . . . .

“Take it, huntress, I am going back to Kara Khan to live on the plains as a human girl.  Your turn to eat dharma, your turn to feed the dreaming snake.”

she turned to smoke through mud

emerged on the other side of happenstance

coupled with a dark man in vestments of love

she stitched the in~between places closed

with deft fingertips

spilling silver thread

leaving me to shiver

the wood between my palms

breathing

‘open me’

 

Folded in lotus

I smoothed the pale blue of my robe

unclasped the gold dhamma from metal kaya

my fingertips dew

on the lid

opened

to a sigh escaping

O Vakkali, whoever sees the Dhamma, sees me

inhaled with juniper incense

 

A brooch inlaid with tiny pink shells

crawled from the box into my palm

to burn wisdom like stigmata into my skin

proclaiming me its bride. . . .

 

a faceted screen of diamonds followed

with moments in every cut

feeding my pupils a history of my own making. . . .

 

there was no pause in between

and the now came on soft paws

to press me between the pages of the moment

replete with a thousand choices. . . .

 

a scroll unrolled

ink presentations

inviting

open to interpretation

there would be no decisions made for me

they were mine to own . . . .

 

the leaf insect in vermillion

rubbed his musical hind legs

against my path

his imprint

intimate and identical to the jewel between my eyes. . . .

 

at last there manifested

a sound

a creative movement

a single tone for the ethereal touch. . . .

 

I closed my eyes on cross~stitched mythologies

and embroidered legends

dismembered my own notions

salves for sinews come undone

a smile in memorial divided between a thousand pieces of me

scattered

in feed across traditions manifested in a field of poppies

 

Exhale

open eyes

smiling Buddha before me

“What is impermanent and permanent?”

I open my palms

in lotus blossom skin

emerald eyes in bright dance

answering with a question

“What is neither?”

he winks

he answers

“You.”

 

~I am home . . . .~

 

 

 

copyright:2010vssmd/pa.inc

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

people delight in the angles and quick designs of your dancing words, and that is well and good, because you certainly put the spice to the curvature of space, but to me, more than anything else, you sing the song of the ages, like the song of solomon and those voices of women from all times who have stepped outside the patterned ways of life, and sang and sang (as aslan knows) the truth of the deep magic

[Larry Dyson]

oh, Kali, Budha...Dharmic concepts on the arrow of Lord Ahruna's centering shot.love it ..you have studied deeply...

[kuru]

the wheel of dharma is constantly spinning...did you get enlightened and achieve nirvana?...you are home before the Buddha...i like the Buddhist philosophy/mythology here..your writing is truly versatile

[FireWoman]

I echo Ed's review, I think he hit the nail on the head. Your voice speaks from centuries past, channeling and relaying your message with fluid ease. The beauty of your writing is that it is unique in that in a sea of literature, yours would float to the top and be immediately recognizable. A beautiful dance through the ages and pages~

[Brad]

ah, the interaction of gods and goddesses in your work, i picture them playing out tattoed on the skin of life

[Robin]

"Open me " magical ~ in how you weave your self between these dimensions ~

"inhaled with juniper incense" ignited my senses

truly wonderful writing , encompassing , breathtaking ~ unique ~
~