The Cow Bell
by douglas john imbrogno
“The fool is careless. But masters guard their watching. It is their most precious treasure.” ~ The Buddha, The Dhammapada, No. 2
A great grief saddles me,
rides down the pampas of
Virginia Dare Avenue,
until I am too tired
and we return home
together.
+
They fish another Kennedy
out of the drink (“unspeakable grief,” the family says)
and must decide — bring the
limp bodies home or
burial at sea.
And so, what, really,
do I have to
complain about?
+
I hear the
‘ka-chink-ka-chink’
of the Buddha medal
bouncing off my
breastbone (one side Buddha,
one side stupa)
and am reminded I
cannot escape.
My karma will always
ring like a cow bell,
so long as I am
a dull beast,
barely awake,
circling about on
the same old hillside.
+ + +
The Outer Banks, North Carolina, July 1999
2 comments
Your like button does not recognize my browser. I like your poem.
Thank you, Errol. I hope the ‘like’ problem resolved itself!