Tears fall upon the lotus
growing near the red water.
A robed figure walks the
dirt path from the bay
carrying a full bucket
not one drop is spilled
as they descend a hill
leading to the monastery.
~
Trees give up their leaves
to the earth, the earth
gives the leaves to animals,
what is left goes to the
insects and back to the earth.
~
In the evening the doors close
while they prepare an offering
for the forest and a meal for
themselves and guests.
~
Travellers pass the simple iron gates daily
while a few will enter.
The road leads through a pine forest,
an empty field, before passing the gardens.
~
Many people are hunched over
or carrying vegetables to wagons.
The sun is hot and the sky is clear
the wind is calm and the tress are tall.
I stop and watch a woman leading a child
toward a field of carrots or potatoes.
A man went and joined them and together
they pulled food from the earth.
~
I continued past the gardens until
I reached the front of a large
building surrounded by white magnolias
and purple flowers I did not recognize.
The doors opened with no hesitations and
no questions asked of my bare feet,
scars across my back and holes in my hands.
