Winter journey home

 

Dead on the path; crow’s change.

Young eagle waits and the wind

speaks signs.

 

Spirit-led to harbour seal

skull and bones. Bury them

under leaves.

 

Feathers and matted fur. Leaf spirals.

 

Layer upon layer

of Sufi veils. Sudden God

then some more.

 

Desire, sly trapper

sets bait, loops the snare. Stop.

Just turn around.

 

 

On east veranda

with T’ao Ch’ien. Breath chants

a quiet return.*

 

 

* David Hinton, Mountain Home

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6 thoughts on “Winter journey home

    • Thanks Michele. I’m really glad you enjoyed this. I’m sure it may seem a bit obscure to readers, yet on a personal level represents a clear record of my journey this past winter. It was in fact the Sufi veils that turned me around and brought me back to the simplicity and Ch’an of the early Chinese poets.

    • Thanks Virgilio. With the weather tonight I trust the leaves will be more than a little stirred… perhaps to present a mystery to some wanderer as to how the bones of a seal might find their way into the forest.

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