The first time I passed, I saw only
a form lying under a pale yellow blanket
in a red tiled door-well.
Few possessions, cans of food
a single pair of mens black shoes.
The second pass, I witnessed
if only for a brief moment,
more than a form.
Brown skin, black hair, a woman
not looking at anyone in particular,
focused on her spot, our eyes did not meet.
I quickly averted my glance,
not allowing (wanting?) them to connect.
Who was she? Someone's daughter, yes.
A wife, mother, sister, lover,
maybe all of these.
Lying in the open,
on a cement sidewalk, with out walls to
hide her vulnerability.
Her privacy seemingly intact
on this busy city street, with its
smells, garbage, vomit, and passers-by.
A day and several hours, a world away,
walking lightly on a wooded path,
the air smells of earth, dry leaves and warm wind.
Brilliant sunshine, illuminates the crimson and gold.
Maple leaf, exquisitely cut out in sharp detail
appear superimposed in the forest canopy.
Tree trunks squeak as they gently embrace.
Families, couples, strangers pass me by, smiling, friendly
others quietly focusing on their steps, mindful of the
trail edge.
I look intently at the red and yellow carpet
of the forest floor and try to capture, the light,
the dappled softness in my mind, imagining
how someday I might paint this picture.
All is dharmakaya.
This is my dharmakaya.
~ Quang Prasad
