Araliya

I’ve wafted on these fragrances
to temple and childhood
visited doctrine and realization-fragment
offerings and murmured resolve
the pansil we break and resolve to uphold
again and again,
I’ve immersed in the textures
of the eternal verities
the nothing to bud to blossom and decay
the colours too
sprinkled, placed on altar
for the clasping of hands and timeless gathas,
the soft yellow slipping to poya white
the purification of mornings
acknowledgment of inevitable night
from a long ago I cannot forget
to a tomorrow that will not arrive,
and this today, this moment, this now:
‘Poojemi buddhang kusumena nena….’

[From the collection 'Some texts are made of leaves,' shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2011]

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