95poems/buddha
I am breathing the
dust of the Buddha’s bones.
You might think, this
being the case, I would
not cry.
I want to say it is
realizing that I am breathing
the dust of the Buddha’s bones,
which makes me cry,
but that is a lie.
First I cry. I feel alone
with my tears.
Next I think that what
I believe is that we are
not alone, that we are
all one.
Then I think of it,
that I am breathing
the dust of the
Buddha’s bones,
that I am breathing.
10/29/95