Brattle Sq, October 24

last night i walked into a Tibetan Freedom rally in Brattle Square
i heard him singing from a half-mile away,
ten minutes
that voice and that throaty roar in the microphone drew me in

eye contact
woman with bowed head and american flag
young man dancing waving the flag of tibet
this throat-singer chanting words in a language my body had learned,
years before,
lifetimes before.

before life, when words
meant no meaning had been exchanged,
but where the vibrations of the earth and the trees and the human throat
were all expressions of the divine in the universe.

i loved it then and i love it now,
i listen for meaning above words.
i am trapped in the words of my body,
my limited shell attempting to capture the likeness of the invisible divine
so far removed from me that i could not hope to ever achieve it.
i escaped my freedom.

purgatory is life.

we know we have suffered here, in this lifetime
we know we have earned no suffering

i stood there transfixed,
brought in by the call to prayer.
i responded in a language i did not understand.
stop. pray. breathe. stand.

tears of fear and pain and sorrow built behind my eyes.
i could not say why. i heard
the truth of his suffering.

it got bad enough that he was here, instead of there.

i began, after standing for some minutes
feeling on the verge of tears and held in deep respect,
to nod my head in agreement
and laugh.

there is joy, there is hope, there is compassion
and we will still be here, somewhere.

Tibet is not a part of China.