Treasure Island

Amala Comer


Hope


Your prayers seem slow to ripen,
But the fields of ears do hear.
The warrior of change is riding
Windhorse, Great Garuda,
Repressions end is near.
The aggressors face so clearly lit
by fiery torches on hillsides stand,
These withering blooms
never lost from sight,
Gesars flower in their hands.



15th Feb 2012

Submitted: Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, October 08, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

The first of a collection of poems that relate to the inconceivable suffering of the Tibetan people in Tibet. They refer mainly to the protest against Chinese occupation, using the non harming of another person. Self immolation. Their numbers have now reached 114, monks, nuns lay men and women, old and young. Their cries for help to an indifferent world found one voice in verse. As the year of 2012 progressed, the poems reflect either an incident, or the response of the Chinese authorities, or the mood and response of the Tibetans.

Verse begins
as a single thread,
weaves its' way
through the readers head.

Constructed in
no particular style
they bind together
we either cry
or smile.

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