My last rites
Nothing to Fear
(for Amogh)
There is nothing to fear, my little one –
everything comes around from water
to dust, betrayal to trust
you have to recognize the small alphabet a and distinguish it
from the capital A observing the pressure on the fingers that write
trace you must contours on the bark you lean on to
and it will all come to you
Do not look for us when we are not around for we are the moon quivering
upon the night’s lake and the puppet shadows appearing disappearing
beyond us
we are the trees that long for the roots as much yearn the high sky
Sleep you must, my child
under the warm blanket of your skin kissing the air deep
And wake up with arms open like sunrays
taking the world in your warm embrace
Shelly Bhoil is an Indian writer and scholar on Tibet. She has published two poetry books An Ember from Her Pyre (Writers Workshop, 2016) and Preposição de Entendimento (Urutau, Brazil, forthcoming); edited the reference book New Narratives of Exile Tibet (Lexington Books, 2020), and co-edited Tibetan Subjectivities on the Global Stage (Lexington Books, 2018); and edited two journals Tibetan Writings in India for Muse India (2014) and Tibetan Exile Poetry in Brazilian-Portuguese translation for Cadernos (University of Sao Paulo, forthcoming). Shelly lives in Sao Paulo, Brazil.
Read an interview with her on Kitaab.