The streets of Lhasa have their own shadows
And shadows have their way of living
If you stare long enough you may see them flicker and talk
Stand in line; wait for your turn as if a pilgrim in the early morning
Lean and press your ears to the peephole
Listen to Jokhang’s lost sea and its demonic mistress…
Time is eternal in the dark sea
The waves have swallowed my last shriek
In the madness of my grief I sit, my face upturned
Are you capable of kindness to yourself?
Then look at me!
I am you exiled by fear, chained underneath a blatant lie.
Those who have seen her have never returned
Vanished under broad daylight as if imagination
Flitting in and out, no one knows if they live or die
I hear they join the shadows across the city
It must be true; of late their numbers have increased
I see them hover in groups when prying eyes have gone to sleep.