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Tammy Stone



I think the flies might

Be little Buddhas,

Buzzing around our heads

As we try to meditate

But think of other things,

Landing on my nose as I

Try in vain to


My breath,

Leaving in silence as

Calm regains.




A layer of film forms at the

Top of my full glass of chai.

What am I not seeing

Under it?

What have I never looked for?

We meditate: Buddha is sitting

On top of my head.

Covering? Protecting?


He descends and dissolves

Into me, but the white

Light I am guided to be filled 

With is a murky grey,

Because I am still afraid

Of what cannot be divided.




The Buddha of Compassion’s

Arms spread out a thousand

Times in the shape of a perfect

Round tree I photographed

A few months ago.

When I imagine one now

The other immediately

Arises in my view

Of how things are in a

World of kindness

And right seeing.



Tammy T. Stone is a writer and photographer based in Toronto. She's been travelling around Southeast Asia and India for the last two years, and has been inspired at every turn. Her poetry, short stories an articles have been widely published in literary journals, magazines and newspapers internationally. She's currently at work on a new novel. She would love your feedback, at