Where to Find the Buddha
by Vannida S. Kol
The side of the road. An ivory pendant
upon my neck. A lotus pedestal. Untouched
mirrors. In the creases of saffron robes.
At Bodh Gaya beneath the almighty
seven-headed serpent. Playing hide and seek
in Nepal, Cambodia, Japan. Outside of
moonlight. My palm lines. Among centuries
old lichen blooms. The oriental supermarket.
My mother’s voice during sutra recital. In her
gentle night-breathing. The incense ash smears
on my silk skirt. Tectonic plate boundaries.
Nomadic feet blisters. On the floor
of TJ Maxx endorsing the Live Laugh Love signs.
The deathbed. A dim sum restaurant
in San Francisco, belly-laughing.
Manning the pig pen on Noah’s Ark.
Sleeping on his right side, still listening
atop Lychee Mountain or in the museum.
At many museums.
When the earth witnesses
my tears falling like ancient temples.
And when
I let go.