Ed Krizek
The Pure Land
Termites, we make shelters,
of craving and desire
not sand and wood.
Instead of saliva
we hold them together
with lust for the measureable.
Roll the stone up the hill.
Amitabha! I want to go to the land of bliss.
An oppressed woman wishes to be free.
A poor man wishes for wealth.
A rich man wishes for love.
Amitabha! There is a place
where trees grant wishes
and sunlit sky holds rare and beautiful birds.
Fruit from the trees is sweet.
No one goes hungry.
We are caught
in an endless cycle.
Youth leads to old age, health punctuates disease,
birth results in death. Amitabha!
There is a place where suffering ceases
and all are awakened.
Soft light glows around contented faces.
Everyone is a Bodhisattva.
Letter to a Buddhist Monk’s Mother
The days go by
quickly here. Up
at 3 AM for prayers
and meditation. At 5:30 AM we eat
breakfast of hot porridge,
and tsampa which is barley powder.
We mix the tsampa with yak butter
which offers a cheesy flavor.
There is no food after noon.
The days are spent in study.
We memorize the Sutras
as well as other Buddhist texts.
Later in the day we debate the merits of these
teachings with a partner.
My hair has been shaved off.
We do this as a sign of our commitment
to the sangha, which is our word for community.
To you this may seem a harsh
and stark life. It is true I sleep
on a wooden plank
with a four inch straw mattress. But,
there is a calm beauty
in the absence of distraction.
In times of stillness I can see
the small birds that fly free outside the temple.
I hear their songs as I do my working meditation.
Before I came here I considered
what it would be like to leave
my soft bed, my corvette, the parties with friends,
and you. Sometimes I miss
everything!
Still, this is the path I have chosen
I must sweep the stones
out of the way
before I walk forward.
Ed Krizek was born in New York City and now runs a sales and marketing business in Swarthmore, PA, a suburb of Philadelphia. He holds a BA and MS from University of Pennsylvania, and an MBA and MPH from Columbia University. He is a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Delaware County; has published over seventy articles, poems, and short stories in various publications; and has won prizes in several poetry and short story competitions. See more of his work at edkrizekwriting.com.
The Pure Land
Termites, we make shelters,
of craving and desire
not sand and wood.
Instead of saliva
we hold them together
with lust for the measureable.
Roll the stone up the hill.
Amitabha! I want to go to the land of bliss.
An oppressed woman wishes to be free.
A poor man wishes for wealth.
A rich man wishes for love.
Amitabha! There is a place
where trees grant wishes
and sunlit sky holds rare and beautiful birds.
Fruit from the trees is sweet.
No one goes hungry.
We are caught
in an endless cycle.
Youth leads to old age, health punctuates disease,
birth results in death. Amitabha!
There is a place where suffering ceases
and all are awakened.
Soft light glows around contented faces.
Everyone is a Bodhisattva.
Letter to a Buddhist Monk’s Mother
The days go by
quickly here. Up
at 3 AM for prayers
and meditation. At 5:30 AM we eat
breakfast of hot porridge,
and tsampa which is barley powder.
We mix the tsampa with yak butter
which offers a cheesy flavor.
There is no food after noon.
The days are spent in study.
We memorize the Sutras
as well as other Buddhist texts.
Later in the day we debate the merits of these
teachings with a partner.
My hair has been shaved off.
We do this as a sign of our commitment
to the sangha, which is our word for community.
To you this may seem a harsh
and stark life. It is true I sleep
on a wooden plank
with a four inch straw mattress. But,
there is a calm beauty
in the absence of distraction.
In times of stillness I can see
the small birds that fly free outside the temple.
I hear their songs as I do my working meditation.
Before I came here I considered
what it would be like to leave
my soft bed, my corvette, the parties with friends,
and you. Sometimes I miss
everything!
Still, this is the path I have chosen
I must sweep the stones
out of the way
before I walk forward.
Ed Krizek was born in New York City and now runs a sales and marketing business in Swarthmore, PA, a suburb of Philadelphia. He holds a BA and MS from University of Pennsylvania, and an MBA and MPH from Columbia University. He is a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Delaware County; has published over seventy articles, poems, and short stories in various publications; and has won prizes in several poetry and short story competitions. See more of his work at edkrizekwriting.com.