Tomorrow Margi and I will leave Dharamsala for Delhi - me to prepare to fly back to California on Friday, Margi to get ready for chemo #6, scheduled for Monday. Carolyn will join us in Delhi, and will be with Margi through chemo #6 and just after; another California friend, Deane, will join Margi the night of June 14, then train back to Dharamsala with her on June 15, the same night Carolyn flies back to the U.S. It was serendipitous (and very kind) of Deane to reschedule her arrival from June 19 to June 14, to connect with Margi in time to travel with her back to the mountains.
It's been a lovely and rich time for me here. I will think about these three weeks for a long time. Here's a poem written in the first few days of being at Pema Thang Guesthouse. It's based on a partial fallacy (if you look really, really hard, you can see that the blue prayerflags on the horizon actually do still have some words on them, albeit very faded), but I stand by my false premise.
PEMA THANG
All the words have drained
from blue prayerflags
encircling the guesthouse.
Faded by wind and rain,
they move beyond description.
Line ends tethered to the roof peak
suspend pink yellow green
sheets still wearing pleas,
but on horizon line
turquoise pages float
blank and eloquent
before pines, misty valley.
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