I see you little girl with your curly hair,
or is that a perm?
Never mind, it is your hair.
At the top of the world,
you would appear to be,
however lets face it,
are you scared to bring our pain to its end?
I have never experienced koselig [coziness]
because you show only
the distant coldness of your ancestry.
You tell me the witches come from your land
and that there are mountain peaks for everybody
that perhaps it is not so easy to bond
And yet, you develop wild schemes and give no hope
Jeg forstår ikke. [I don’t understand]
Hva sa du? [What did you say?]
To those who live in your sphere
and those who would like to exit, as well you just don’t get it.
This thing that I am after called Freedom.
And while I sit and contemplate the whole thing
I realize that you must have been left
too many times in your own mind as a child
to know that no rebellion is necessary.
Compassion of the Buddhas knows
no end and life takes her measures
by the karmic turns
While we need to live consciously
and with awareness
you realize your game and know I don’t play it
Now you tell me that Tara is your Goddess,
perhaps you can show me what that looks like to you.
I hear you tell me you want to pay me my money
That is part of your tactic?
Or are intending to make it a reality?
I know you need love desperately.
I have the eternal Buddha Dharma.
I am not from your land, and I must say
that works out just fine for me you know.
One day I will visit to understand more your ways
of the distant land, or not, like you say.
Because with paradoxical illusions you like to play.
I give thanks to the Earth each day
and to the Buddhas that have saved my life
and granted me freedom and peace,
I realize you must want something from me terribly,
you know were I am so you can call me and write to me.
While you watch this game unfold, I can tell
that yours and mine values are essentially different at the core,
What you crave so deeply from me you can also have,
it has a name, it is called the Buddha Dharma.
The same sun and the same moon shine on us all.
Her Holiness Tara Sonan Wangmo
Image: Norway Sun, unknown author
This poem is for one Norwegian/American woman I know