Today I said Good Bye to Mom.
Through the transparent cover
With her eyes closed, Mother looked at me
As if she were saying
"Why are you mourning over this biomass in this air-conditioned coffin?
It ain't me here! Not any more, if ever there was I."
As a Buddhist child, &
through the incentivised practice of "breathing"
I was bribed into learning to dis-aggregate :who am "I"?
"Here is a few coins, if you sit with me for several more times," said my great-aunt who sat in the mosquito-net before going to bed.
Alas, no $500 per hour meditation masters.
No,Mindfulness isn't about productivity or corporate managers.
Dear sisters,
Stop waling on my Messenger.
Let "Mom" go,
on her last journey from home.
I fought back my quiet tears
I breath as I greet my own grief.
It's time to "dis-aggregate" Mom.
The hair, the skin, the cells, the fluid, the bones, which one are you, Mom?
Where did you come from? Where are you heading?
Are you going anywhere? Or did you come to us from somewhere, at all?
Was it random? Was it Samsara? Or was it Creation?
I keep asking.
Then, when is my time to go? Come, it will.
We will all go.
Nothing lasts. Everything passes.
Still, this is the Day I cry.
Goodbye, Mother.
