He’s all of three
but stare into his eyes and they say
I’m so much more, if
you dare go there.
Of course I do.
As we enter the path
to the rock garden
his small hand in mine
I point to the sign, say
do you know what grows
in a rock garden?
He looks, I can see
the faint hint of the knowing smile
He holds his finger to his forehead,
looks up questioningly,
and states clearly and precisely
“weeds” with a following giggle.


He is due to arrive
as soon as we are ready.
We have known for some time
that he is on his way,
and we want everything just so
for him when he arrives.
That is the least we can do,
and the least he would expect.
We are not certain
just what he will want
so we can never be certain
we are actually ready.
That, we think, explains
why he has not arrived.
Unless he has, since we
have never seen him,
and don’t know if he
might actually be a she.
So we say our prayers
and go on with preparations.


He came, stayed a while,
and left, and it was only when
he was gone that most missed him.
Some say he will come back
but others are skeptical, and
no one really knows for certain.
Some actually say that he didn’t leave,
that he simply changed, and might
appear when no one expects him.
Several said it was a she, not a he.
No one was quite certain
of the person’s name, some said
it was Jesus, some said Buddha,
some said it was Tara, but the children
said it didn’t matter really,
that to see him, to see here,
all you needed was a mirror,
and the real name was simply Peace.


He appeared rather suddenly,
and didn’t seem to stay very long.
Some claimed they knew he was coming,
most never saw him arrive,
although some said they saw him clearly,
that he visited frequently, that
they knew his presence unquestionably
and spoke to him at some length.
She knew there was much wishful thinking
and a dearth of reality, but she
had come to accept that they got
what they seemed so badly to need
at no cost to her or any others.
But her daughter, seeing all this,
could only laugh, for though she might
be young, she knew he didn’t appear,
he was always there, they just wouldn’t
close their eyes and see
what every child did.


It is incredibly difficult
to be a truly holy man, it isn’t
enough to inspire peace
with your words and presence,
you had better walk on water,
turn water into wine, heal
with the touch of a single finger.
You can’t simply stand up
for justice at the risk
of your own life and limb,
you have to wander around
a desert, carry tablets
down the side of a mountain.
You cannot be compassion,
you have to forsake everything
and be always available
for questions that have no answers.
It’s a real problem, since we
all seek to be holy, but no one
wants to do the hard work of it.


The cat is curled
on my zabuton,
and stares up at me
only long enough
to say, “now
would be a good day
to test Buddha’s advice –
that you can sit almost anywhere
and still your mind.
So look around
I have left you
the rest of the room
and your sitting bench,
and if that isn’t nirvana
I don’t know what is,
but do be quiet
for its time
for another nap.”