Tathagatha’s Teachings
Sep 7, 2018 · 1 min read
I have heard you before,
in my youth, my mother used Somali proverbs to teach me
She had not known her words would transcend to the vows
I utter each night
It is fall and I am in search of a peaceful dwelling, again
My mother is no longer privy to my longing for her proverbs
The cup from which I drink my morning coffee seems to overflow
from the side where I sewn a hol-y patch
the patch was to keep me dry
but like the sun, it too has shifted its shape
I am learning to hear with my eyes
sometimes I close them to feel —
the anxious flutter of the wings on my lashes,
the sweet gnawing of the day as it unfolds
Mother, oh mother,
teach me —
