in yet another
of a million lifetimes
buddha is returning
with his begging bowl
& tattered robe
he doesn’t speak
our language––
doesn’t need to––
his awakened humanity
says enough
barefoot he walks
into a crowded town hall
in portsmouth,
new hampshire.
silence follows
like a gentle
shock
buddha gazes
into the eyes
of the demagogue––
trump feels
a silent glimmer of
humility
in his heart
in the desert sand
of palmyra, syria,
buddha encounters
the faithful mujahidin
of isis––
they drop their arms
& the color of
their black beards
drains to white
pope francis is
leading a motorcade
in his bullet-proof box
across central park, nyc.
the convoy stops
for buddha
standing alone
in the center of the road
francis climbs down
to the pavement
& approaches buddha––
they embrace––
let there be hope
for all of us
in this world