Amala Comer Poems

Which way to jump?
Which horse to back?
This game of chance
vision is what we lack.
...

A writer
a poet
a scholar
a friend
...

Voices that can never be silenced,
words that can never be erased,
lives that will never be forgotton,
History that will always be saved.
...

I cried
when I died,
not enough tears
to douse the flames.
...

The old monk hangs
his face cast down,
Shackles bind
his hands
...

He lived and died
in the shackles of the state,
one line that will define
his orchestrated fate.
...

The Arrogant Enemy.

They try to run
they try to hide,
...

The pain in our hearts
is hard to see,
anger rises up
where anger should not be.
...

Over and over they tell me
'You are Chinese
no Dalai Lama
no Tibet
...

A new sense of pride
a new sense of will
We are Tibetans
those that you kill
...