going through the motions

Jul 11, 2023

Jamyang Dorjee Chakrishar

this room is a prison
no it isn't
yes it is
there are no bars on the windows
and no lock on the door
I can leave whenever I wish
and though I often do
It still feels as if years have passed
locked in this cell
a thousand books
a bed two chairs a desk
a television a computer a stereo
paints and brushes

everything but food
I don't need to leave often and when I do
I am just going through the motions
of being like real people
Hiding the truth
of my endless imprisonment
why do I stay
the ghost of my life tells me so
it is my own ghost that whispers to me
"stay
you are nothing
no life for you"
so I return to the desk
and I stay

kooking up at the night sky
the fall constellations are aloft
flung out across the dark sky
but the changes in the trees
are still quite subtle
a hint of red here
a glimpse of gold there
when the leaves finally fall my footsteps will make crunchy sounds
overhead the sad-sounding cries
of the geese as they travel
My sixty-sixth year on earth
When I am alone I am not lonely
and when I am lonely I am not alone

do not stop digging until you hear the crunch of old bones breaking
dig until the earth on the shovel is red with blood red with sin you can hold the shovel over your head for the moon to see and then you can weep for what you have unearthed you can give the remains a name even if you just have to invent one in fact especially if you have to invent one then bury it again

james lee jobe