Buddha’s Not Talking
He looks out from the shelf while I consider
manure, sharp knives and the hagfish’s second
heart, or whether odors differ in texture when a dog
retraces his steps through the park, and do they really
lose themselves or just quickly shed their pasts,
forever moving towards now. Sometimes I say hello,
but truthfully we seldom interact, unless I bump his
shoulder when retrieving one of the books leaning
against him, and then it’s only a quick “sorry” on my
part, and a stare on his, perhaps a slight nod if
I’ve not yet had coffee. I fear I’ll never grasp
the difference in having and being, that my true
nature has splattered on a trail and the dogs will
sniff it and lift their legs in acknowledgment,
or perhaps acceptance of the infinite, with wisdom
far beyond my reach, before moving on to disquisitions
about soil and fragrance and the need to justify art
with decimal points. Yesterday I roasted chicken, moved
books, sipped ale. Today I’ll sweep, discard papers and
wonder if I’ll become what I think, whether reincarnation
will be cruel or kind. Either way, Buddha’s not talking.
* * *
“Buddha’s Not Talking” first appeared in July 2017 at Blue Bonnet Review.
With gratitude to editor Cristina Del Canto for taking this piece.
O at the Edges 
I love this so much. So much. I found your poetry on Silver Birch and it sparked in me – reignited? – my desire to find a way to write with the Buddhist lens… I find it so difficult to avoid cheese. Your voice is a seesaw / balance of reverence – irreverence – which keeps both real and grounded and moving – I connect with your poems so much. You’re amazing. Thank you.
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Thank you very much! You have made my day! I’m not a Buddhist, but I lean more in that direction. I, too, cannot avoid cheese. And then there’s bacon. I’ll probably be reincarnated as a pig…
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Certainly cheese or bacon will be less complicated than being human. I like this one a lot, it keeps reverberating…
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Thanks, John. I sometimes lament those complications, but the alternatives aren’t to my liking either. 🙂
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Buddhist or not, (and really, any Buddhist worth their buddha statue avoids the label, what are words, anyway?) I used your poem in leading a meditation today. “Any poem with a dog and buddha in it is worth something,” one of our teachers said.
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Wonderful! You’ve made my week!
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If you become what you think that projects you as walking poem ever twisting lines together … the world can surely use such!
I have Buddha and St. Francis in the front yard and speak to them often. I’ve yet to hear a response, but I’m not sure there isn’t any …
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I do seem to be a bit twisted at times. 🙂 Buddha accompanied me to Indianapolis, and now sits on our living room mantle, quiet as ever.
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I too have this self same Buddha on my mantel, above the now disused fire, emanating calm between the juggled trials of TV time and insignificant tasks.
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Ours sits on a dictionary on the mantle. Words above fire, which seems appropriate.
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