If I could speak freely
if I could tell theories
if I could be certain
my words were my own
I'd write forever
But no poem is private
nothing I have to say
belongs to them
for I am desire-free
like the smiling ascetic under the Bodhi tree
but private theories in their eyes
are made manifest
like visions of the Virgin
as desire

But if I could send it to You
registered mail
on the wing of a dove
I would tell this story
He could be the lover
I have searched for.
I am afraid to move
toward his nakedness.
And you would smile
making a mental note
to send an angel for my comfort
and a koan in reply
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©Darusha Wehm  
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