Leh

In the land where the Garuda patrols the sky

And Indus snake-like winds its swift course

From the monastery the lungta quickly fly

Bearing the mani prayers in the ten directions

The gompa stands quiet atop its lofty perch

Dreaming of young monks and eager discourse

An ancient building lost in eternal meditation

The river caresses the valley with attachment’s coil

And the simple folk listen to pujas as they toil

The whisper of the flags, the call of the deep horns

Age old rituals mark the tenor of their lives

Karma plays out with each action and reaction

Cause and effect like the mighty river flows

Bearing endless future lives wherever it goes

Here where the Himalaya shoulder the brooding skies

Pieces from the kaleidoscope of your spiritual search

Spin and turn and then delicately fall in place

Fleetingly your soul feels and fuses with eternity.

The Mountains Of Ladakh

Stark and forbidding the great Himalaya tower in the air

The air is sharp and cuts razor-like with every in-breath

The ease with which the eagles fly

Gives the thin atmosphere the lie

An ancient peace envelopes this barren land

Yaks graze languidly looking for sparse vegetation

A vulture circles overhead in hope of a sky burial perhaps

Drama in the endless silence and the wild and clouded sky

How small the human frame seems

In this land of contrasts and dreams

Infused with colour and ancient tradition

Buildings lie scattered like salt on the valley floor

And the mountains of Ladakh reach up and touch the sky

Dharamsala Sunset

Red, gold, purple and indigo the banners of the sun

Stream across Dharamsala’s sky in silent homage

To the exile of Tibet and the lost land of the snows

Offerings of an ocean of skies

Stretch to the horizon

The wind repeats the mani mantra with a keening cry

Colours of the monasteries reflected in the glowing sky

Gentle obeisance to the lineage of the Compassionate One

Voices of the lost and lonely

Drift up to the distant sun

Beyond these great Himalaya and on the roof of the world

Where the yaks pick their way through the icy snows

The smoke of nomadic fires drift like sails unfurled

Incense for the gods

Of the ten directions

The sun sets over Dharamsala and the sky runs red with blood

Shed by monks and laity over these many years of occupation

Sacrifice of human life, religion and age old customs understood

The Snow Lion weeps

While the rest of the world sleeps

And still those displaced say the mani for all breathing things

The prayer flags fly, the prayer wheels turn silently

On the fading sun’s last rays the chanting monk sings

The purple night falls

A curtain on the world that was Tibet.

The River of Ladakh

Turquoise and silver under a cobalt sky

The Indus rushes through the valleys of Ladakh

The sweeping curves and stately meander belie

Her urgency as the swift-flowing waters

Tumble head over heels from the roof of the world

The barren, brooding winter mountains wait

In silent contemplation holding aloft the sky

Shades of sepia broken only by the turquoise mirror

A marvellous moonscape unfolds before the eye

This stark, austere, majestic and mystical land

Frozen water carrying the snow’s icy tears

Swell the silver ribbon snaking towards the plains

Storm clouds gather above the mighty Himalaya

The Indus sees the angry sky and feels fear

Speeding on her journey she flees the falling rains