Milarepa – a poem by Jon Inglett


In the land of snow
The winds blow a thick cover
Over your cave.

Years of mischief
Block me from entering
Your quiet grace in solitude.

Somehow beneath the ice
Your energetic body melts
The tar of obscurations,

And joyful, melodic sounds 
Spring rainbow light to All
Who climb to hear you sing.

Fellow Yogi, I broke my ankle
Trying to ascend the mountain pass.
What black karma do I possess

That keeps me from your songs;
Strains my step in deeper darkness;
Blocks my open ears to listen?

My melancholy yearning looms
Enough to blow my trumpet bone.
Lying in the snow, I might have blown

A small crack in your cave's door
To welcome me to Shambala,
But my feet, frigid from an icy wind,

Have not sensed your fire warmth.
Still with broken ankle, I rise.
A cratered moon guides my limping.

Jon Inglett is a Professor of English at Oklahoma City Community College. He was inspired by the natural world from his youth, particularly the lakes, small forests, and mountains in Central and Northwest Arkansas. He has self-published his work over the years and is the faculty advisor for the Absolute Literary Journal at Oklahoma City Community College.

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