Incommunique

Powered by a whole foods plant based diet, a well dressed penguin and an over-active imagination

I Dreamt with the Brass Buddha

Bill Barton 7/12/1921 - 10/4/2010

I Dreamt with the Brass Buddha

Smooth cold skin,
tarnished and collecting dust.
He is a twin.
His brother
was a courting gift
from my mother
to my father.

I ask the Buddha
if my father has rejected Buddhism
or embraced it so deeply
it is beyond me to recognise.
He smiles
and a drop of sweat
beads on the folds of his chest
and rushes furiously
across the sacred mound of his belly.

He invokes my childhood
walking across a paddock
with my father explaining
the essence of Buddhism;
To fully be
whatever you were doing-
walk paddock, repair car.

I dreamt with the Brass Buddha
and recognised my father,
eighty one years old
playing guitar.
Calloused hands
gripping the fret,
stroking strings.
His whole body listening,
just as he once did, walking with me.

The Brass Buddha
wipes the sweat from his brow
and returns to his contemplation.


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