The old monk hangs
his face cast down,
Shackles bind
his hands
his feet don't touch
the ground.
He lifts his head
then I could see
the gaping black holes
where his eyes used to be.
No movement of mouth
no visible breath,
just a simple request
'See the Dalai Lama for me '.
16th March 2012
A good poem with imagery like Shackles(I hope it's China) well writ poem and its the requirement.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I could see the gaping black holes where his eyes used to be. Shackles, feet and hands. A good poem that reveals the reality of the situation. Monks are holy people. Their sufferings have eternal value. Thank you dear poet. tony