Interdependent Arising
The girl who sits in front of me in Buddhism class
has bleached blonde hair with split ends
that break off all over the place when she moves.
She raises her hand and pieces of blonde
fall into constellations on her navy blue shirt.
She tosses her hair and pieces float down disappearing into
the dust and speckles of the dirty tile.
She leans back in her desk and pieces land
on my paper where I take notes about right
thought, the middle path, and impermanance.
I wonder if I've inhaled any of her hair
if we've become one-
her hair intermingled with my nose hairs,
her hair in my lungs.
The thought of our oneness makes
the back of my throat itch,
but as she turns to give me a cough drop
she dug out of her purse,
I see her head surrounded
by a golden halo of hair particles.
For a second I almost believe
she's attained Nirvana.
No comments:
Post a Comment