When the Dalai Lama sits in meditation
opening his inward eye to blue-sky mind,
does a trap door swing open in the clouds
for his green-eyed kitty to butt his head
through blankness, insisting on being fed?
Each passing present brings louder meows:
he is, after all, the true ruler of Tibet,
refusing exile.
I wonder: for a moment, does the Dalai Lama
think about turning this cat into feline art
against the purified white of temple walls?
Strangely beautiful. Strangely satisfying!
But then, there’s that bodhisattva vow:
compassion to all the sentient beings
trapped in the stuck door of existence,
soothing the bottomless hunger
that comes with breathing.
(Even those whom you’ve just fed
before you sat to meditate. Always
for them who bust the bounds of heaven
ever crying more.)
-Kitty Yanson
Memorizing the Laws of Gravity 