Poetry / December 2015 (Issue 30)


Wat Arun

by Michael Carlo C. Villas

Where the white stone steps
are narrow and steep, I carry
only a camera, a shawl,
a knapsack with passport,
wallet, keys, this great fear
of falling and faith that earth
beneath will stay.

Free your hands, I hear
the temple bells say.
You only have railings
to hold. Clear your mind
and see the cosmos
and you, a speck of dust.
Let go of all that burdens you,
and scale mount Sumeru.

It is grace that leads
your pilgrim feet.
Take only what you need,
a fear of falling, and faith.
 
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