Poetry by Margaret Chula
Ensõ:
Imperfect Zen circle, this broad brushstroke lush tongue of wetness, not quite touching from beginning to end, needing to be completed by the viewer’s eye. The master’s waka poem ripples down the border of a moldering scroll with faded ink scratches of bird claws. A nightingale warbles from deep within the plum blossoms. The black-robed monk wields his horsetail brush like a broom. Ink pools beneath his bare feet to form the hieroglyph ensõ, a darkness so immense that he can step inside, fill it like a cave. ensõ: in Zen, a circle symbolizing enlightenment, the universe, and the void |
What We Hold
Even a hole holds itself, hard-packed dirt rounded into a funnel. Empty, it opens to the light. Nests cradle eggs, protecting chicks until they are ready to peck out of their opaque heaven. Lovers clutch in a tight embrace to feel the edges of themselves as they merge and part and become self-contained. When do we hold on and when do we release? When a fist opens, anger disappears. Hands return to pockets of clinging lint. A feather released from its wing discovers its own direction. Incense burns best when the lid cracks open and the fragrance of sandalwood is allowed to escape through the ribs of the jade dragon. Even the Buddhist circle ensō, the universe and the void, is left open at the end of the brushstroke letting everything in or out. |
Art by Linda Gould