Sacred and Profane Buddhas
The meaning of the Buddha is in all
Things, not just sacred lotuses or trees
Saints sit beneath. Secular flies let fall
Their droppings on the painted frieze
Brushed onto white rice paper on a screen,
Or watercolor painted on framed silk.
Brocade of draperies and the robe of queen
Contain the Buddha’s presence as does milk
A baby suckles from his mother’s breast.
Mosquitoes bite the monk beside his ear.
He slaps at them. The slaps and flies, the rest,
All know that they are in the Buddha’s sphere.
Or if they don’t, then we are Buddhas, too,
And so we lift up high that holy view.
~ Phillip Whidden