Entering Sanctum Sanctorum

Satish Verma

A sacred lotus emerges 
from the navel, while you rest 
on trembling waves. I am shedding 
my leaves. 

The knotty hole. Center 
of the earth. A shell 
breaks inaudibly in the churning pot. 

The pledged promise was 
deep. Pole's red aurorae stream 
in new birth. 

Was it necessary to take 
an oath under the bo tree― 
to become a sacred Buddha? 

It sucks. Fake or genuine? 
I am searching the faces of whites, 
browns and blacks. Who 
wants to be buried in a nameless 
grave of a soldier?