Nepal, Poem: Regarding another body that did not decompose

GOMCHEN

catching a glimpse through mountain shadows
of a white bearded man returning
to his stone dwelling.

his resume is summarized in his name
which he never hears voiced.

chewing worms reduced to dirt
parched pages of his sacred texts

this hermit had learnt everything
but specialized in doing nothing

dusty books are as useful
as corpses in the ground.

his trusted friends
an oak stick to prop his chin
whilst staring at the moon from his granite perch
and a wooden box
to keep him upright throughout the night.

in his fifty-fifth year a single thought
soaked his mind like the monsoon mist.

“I am going to die right now
now
at this moment
right now.”

“What a hassle it will be”
he sighed,
“for wrinkled nuns to fetch wood
to torch these useless bones of mine.”

for three days under passing clouds
next to the mountain’s rushing torrent
dry wood he collected
and stacked next to the cave door.
that evening
from the rocky ledge
the great mediatator and his new companion
were witness to a single flash of lightening in the sky.

two decades on
his cremation pyre remained
keeping his mind nailed to mortality
as village nuns below
went one by one.

when dark rusted hinges fell
and the autumn winds blew
the great meditator’s door opened.

dust eight month’s thick
wrapped the shadow figure
concealing the gnawed holes
in his woollen shawl.

faraway, a traveller
will never return
to the hidden name now gone
from the names passed down by men.

Solo Khumbu, Nepal
November 2005



Matteo with automatic weapon and tea near Gomchen's hermitage