Inaugural Efforts

I begin this blog with a poem that can be found in my book, The Scholar's Daughter, published by Louisiana Literature Press.

Transactions With the World

Bodhidharma’s fifteenth world

rests on a leaf

that may soon choose to escape

its parent tree.

On this cold and windless day

the leaf may decide

to comply with the message in its cells.

So seduced by the skylark’s complicated song,

Bodhidharma and his world

may find themselves afloat—whirling

underneath the site where their view

might have been the best.

But Bodhidharma will not mind

if, suddenly, his aspect grows unconfined

so that he sees beyond

the Emperor’s karmic temple grounds,

no longer fussed at by shrewish nightingales

or chastised by imprisoned fortune-telling crickets

whose sole existence is to warn of storms and earthquakes.

Long ago, Bodhidharma chose not to rest

at the tea house or pavilion

in the mountain defile

where travelers spend their nights

lulled by the sound of cataracts

emptying into the lake below.

Bodhidharma will be happy on his leaf,

which, like Bodhidharma, moves

according to its nature—falling

when it has grown heavy enough,

not waiting for the breeze

that could drive it along.

This is a ekphrastic poem; that is, it is one work of art (in this case, a poem) that is based or speaks of another work of art (in this case, a scroll painting). 

What I hope readers get a sense of is the painting itself--it's a beautiful, delicate, and funny work, with Bodhidharma a little tubby but also content with his place in the world and with nature. In the poem, Bodhidharma expands both outwardly and inwardly (he "will not mind / if, suddenly, his aspect grows unconfined / so that he sees beyond / ...the ...temple grounds"). I hope to be that way, too, when I grow up (or at least sometimes when I'm not). I expect to be hectored by "shrewish nightingales" but I want to know how to ignore them. I also don't want to listen to any warnings about the future--or promises either--as both tend to disrupt the peace of my world. 

In other words, for a moment, it's nice to contemplate being Bodhidarma, "happy on [my] leaf, / ...which .... moves / according to [my] nature." 

I hope the poem encourages you to grow and ignore the nightingales and crickets that disrupt your sleep. I hope it encourages you to travel now and then, enjoying your own leaf, and the directions it takes you on your earthward journey.