FIVE RUPEE POEMS: THE BUDDHA I think the flies mightBe little Buddhas,Buzzing around our headsAs we try to meditateBut think of other things,Landing on my nose as ITry in vain toFindMy breath,Leaving in silence asCalm regains. A layer of film forms at theTop of my full glass of chai.What am I not seeingUnder it?What have I never looked for?We meditate: Buddha is sittingOn top of my head.Covering? Protecting?Loving?He descends and dissolvesInto me, but the whiteLight I am guided to be filled With is a murky grey,Because I am still afraidOf what cannot be divided. The Buddha of Compassion’sArms spread out a thousandTimes in the shape of a perfectRound tree I photographedA few months ago.When I imagine one nowThe other immediatelyArises in my viewOf how things are in aWorld of kindnessAnd right seeing. Tammy T. Stone is a writer and photographer based in Toronto. She's been travelling around Southeast Asia and India for the last two years, and has been inspired at every turn. Her poetry, short stories an articles have been widely published in literary journals, magazines and newspapers internationally. She's currently at work on a new novel. She would love your feedback, at firstname.lastname@example.org.