mandala

by Diana Woodcock

From the book:

FOR LHASA

March 17, 2008 I could not shake
the thought of you in flames.
Throughout the day whispering
the names of those I know still
living in your center, on your
periphery. Felt your misery.
Smelled burning shops, overturned cars,
Chinese flags. Saw smoke rising like

incense over the Potala and Jokhang.
Heard the rumblings of a hundred
tanks moving through your hallowed
streets. Remembered the soldier
who narrowly missed me, knocking
me down-bicycle and body sprawled
on the ground as he sped past laughing.
Today I said it out loud to no one

in particular, to the nameless faces
in the crowd, “I never left you nor
loved any city more.” So tonight
I'll fill seven prayer bowls, make a
mandala out of Arabian desert sand,
remember as I dangle my feet in Gulf
waters the source of the Ganges,
and wonder if indeed I am a certain

lama's reincarnation. I'll take that
long flight back, walk the famished,
enflamed road leading to the holy
city where I'll rise up like incense,
a faithful wife burning on her husband's
pyre because I can't forget
you, most fragile tragic city of Tibet.

40 pages, Paperback

First published December 8, 2009

About the author

Diana Woodcock is an award-winning poet. Currently teaching at Virginia Commonwealth University in Qatar, she has lived and worked in Tibet, Macau and Thailand.