Be My Eyes Poem by Amala Comer
Be My Eyes
The old monk hangs
his face cast down,
Shackles bind
his hands
his feet don't touch
the ground.
He lifts his head
then I could see
the gaping black holes
where his eyes used to be.
No movement of mouth
no visible breath,
just a simple request
'See the Dalai Lama for me '.
16th March 2012
A good poem with imagery like Shackles(I hope it's China) well writ poem and its the requirement.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 2:20:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I could see the gaping black holes where his eyes used to be. Shackles, feet and hands. A good poem that reveals the reality of the situation. Monks are holy people. Their sufferings have eternal value. Thank you dear poet. tony