Cessation

The clay oil-lamps and their dull amber flames

Danced like her gushing fierce thoughts of shame

The bleeding black oil stained the soft gritty sands

With beads of sour sorrow that soaked her hands

The wrinkled old palms hunched together in prayer

With her sad glassy eyes on the blue dusky air  

Uttering of suffering of relentless despair 

Of incessant past samsaric burdens to bear

A lone frog croaked to the drone of the crickets

The street dogs howled to the full mooned heavens

The forgotten young waif got a rice-grain pittance

As the saffron robed monk sang the way to cessation      

Her slow strides crunched the dry leaves like music

As the blade at her head tore her hair like magic

Ending lifetimes of suffering crushing and karmic  

She drifted to a light afar from all tragic 

© Kamalika Jayathilaka