A Geordie In The Himalaya

Two poems


Breaking open,
Letting go. But
Each tear is not an invitation
To wallow in the habits of sorrow,
Rather a celebration
Even if it is not fully felt.
The setting sun will rise again
Just as you, dear heart,
Will travel through this dark night
To shine once more.
You’ve done so many times before.


Base chakras. Ink and pencil. 24.10.16


I am sorry that I judged you
Without saying even one word to you,
Seeing you tap your foot
At the threshold of the cafe
Disgusted and fearful,
Not able to cross.
I saw the little, black lizard
Run into a crack by the door.
“How cute,” I thought, “A lizard!”
But why are you scared?
Just walk through the door.”
Who am I to judge?
What might that little, black lizard
Mean to you?


– McLeod Ganj, Himachal Pradesh

This entry was published on November 8, 2016 at 11:07 am. It’s filed under Creative Expression and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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