This is the third in the suite of narrative poems, the Buddhist Chronicles. Rahula was Siddhartha’s young son, born after his father left the family to seek enlightenment. If you missed the first two poems in this series, you can read them here and here.
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Buddhist Chronicles
3
Rahula’s Demand
Where is my father?
Why do you sit all day by the window
gazing out at the sky, and at this winding path
that leads away from our mountain kingdom?
Mother, come, play with me. I have a new monkey
with soft white fur, black rings around his eyes;
he speaks to me in monkey tongue,
tells me stories of the bazaar.
Why must I stay here in grandfather’s palace?
It is pestilent with women and old men
hiding from the cold.
I want to see my father.
Take me to him.
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As always, I’d love to hear your insights, thoughts and poems in Comments. Poetry is an act of communion, an exploration of intersecting realities, a song, the rhythm of breath in words. Let’s play poetry together.
