Megan stretches her arms,
as though waking up from a nightmare,
into this room, in which she hasn’t decided
if she is truly awake yet.
Megan is
a mytery to some
a newborn to this world, entering reluctantly,
and some days
harboring
resentment for the womb that
spat her out with malice
into this cold, unreliable world.
And other days, around her
is a beautiful shield that
keeps
all worldly ugliness away from
her timeless wisdome
and beauty, as
The Buddha in her becomes
aware of itself.
clr 2011