Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Tibetan Bowl

Years ago,
you did not know me well.
One morning,
when I was in charge of leading prayers,
my hand slipped
when I struck our Tibetan bowl.

The resulting sound was tinny, lacking resonance,
and when the prayers were over,
you took me aside
to give a lengthy explanation
on how to tap the bowl
as if I were a novice.

You thought you were being helpful,
but I,
carrying years of experience,
mixed with rejection and invisibility,
resented your assumption
that I'd never struck a bowl before;
found you officious, condescending.

And now,
now we both are softer, wiser,
I see that you, too, needed to be heard.
Watching you bloom in love,
I'm blooming, too,
and the Heart that holds us both
is resonating like a deep Tibetan bowl,
thrumming with reconciliation.

* * *

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