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