To forget the chill of
The frozen hearth
I spend the night
Dreaming of gathering
Violets in a lush field.
The Japanese nun Rengetsu gathers violets in every poem she writes. In the poem Winter Dreams she captures moments by plucking the petals of her memories one magic moment at a time.
To recall the verdant colors of spring in the depth of winter is an expression of faith in the seed of Buddha-nature and the lush field of our heart and mind.
When the Dalai Lama describes emptiness as fullness he helps us grasp the fertility of space. The violets arise against an empty palette, fill the canvas as we gather them in a beautiful bouquet and disperse in the next sweet, sad lapse of time.
The evanescence of
This floating world
I feel over and over:
It is the hardest
To be the one left behind.
In Thirty Years After my Husband’s Death we enter into a loving sanctum as she reflects on her loss and feast in the vastness of her broken open heart. Her words dance on the razors edge of bliss and emptiness, one image a flash of ecstasy, the next of letting go.
Clad in back robes
I should have no attractions to
The shapes and scents of this world
But how can I keep my vows
Gazing at today’s crimson maple leaves?
Set against the autumnal blaze of the maple leaves Rengetsu’s non-attachment to the effervescent floating word is reflected in her black robe. We see through her contemplative eyes the brilliant juxtaposition of the longing of the human heart and clear awareness.
Who else but a poet could evoke the bounty of the void so well? As a sky dancer her word play evokes a tango. The seduction is so acute and the beauty so sublime. In this last poem, As a Nun Gazing at the Deep Colors of Autumn she touches in and lets go. Touches in and lets go.
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