108 (New Year's Prayer)
“like prayers divine,
I must each day say o’er the very same;
Counting no old thing old, thou mine”
Sonnet 108 ~ William Shakespeare
Below the weft
of seed syllable shaped breaths,
one hundred and eight uncleaned lotus seeds
of the rabbit eared mala
skim seamlessly across the skin of space,
like one hundred and eight moons
to the moon, or suns
to the sun;
birds of dark passage
counted up towards a crown of untold petals.
In Japan, Zen monks ring in the new year
one hundred and eight times.
I pray my first foot will be decorated
one hundred and eight auspicious ways,
and a mala is left counting its corolla.
Christopher Martin is a Buddhist poet living by the Mouth of the Tyne on the North East coast of England. He is widely published in various publications, both in print and online. His debut collection has recently been published by @theblackcatpoetrypress.
Amethyst Review 