The Lion's Roar Poem by Amala Comer

The pain in our hearts
is hard to see,
anger rises up
where anger should not be.
Our lonely voice
echoes thru Tibet's great vast
lie frozen in the rivers
with reflections of our past.

Our market place
procures false hope
three baskets spill
with seasoned tears
that hold no store
of valid core.

Sweet rice
charged with bitter taste
their mantras have a different score
The blind lead the blind
through Earths raging door
Tibetans hear our Lions Roar.








September 2nd 2012