Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Untitled Poem


This is just a draft. I read it at the Renaissance Poetry Reading organized by SFT at Shangrila Tibet Kitchen in Jackson Heights, but it needs more work and time.

Here the river fails to flow

Here the barley stalks of Shigatse sleep
With their ears opened and eyes lightly shut
With dreaming

Here the kelsang methok
Hold off their blooming,
Hold their flowering
Hostage until the
Time comes once
Again for flourishing

Here we wait
For the sky and
Earth to settle

Here we wait

4 comments:

tingmozema said...

this is beautiful. I could see how we can not flourish under the oppression.
I also noticed a sense of 'peaceful resistance'. how beautifully you have expressed the anxious waiting in

"Here the barley stalks of Shigatse sleepWith their ears opened"

thank u!

jhutok said...

Thank you! For reading and for your sweet comment.

Pema said...

Reminded me of a verse in Keats' Ode to a Grecian urn.

"What little town by river or sea-shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return."

In your poem too, there is this sense of desolateness/emptiness/longing in the skies, rivers, flowers... all awaiting the return of its people, our people.

Very beautiful!

kyab1314 said...

very beautiful.