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Poem

You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still
                      You end up here. Regret none of it –Dorianne Laux

     Those streets are now narrow ones that wind into each other all converging at a market place, a neighborhood that doesn’t sleep. There’s a row of Tankas!  

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Tibetan canvases to be scrolled, now displayed on hangers like racks of clothing.
Tourists are fishing through them, looking for their special one. 
I see Green Tara, protector of Nepal, dancing on a tanka. 
She is arrayed in gold leaf ornaments. Golden clouds hover over her.  That’s for me! The store owner tells me it took the artist, a Nepali student and a monk, 23 days to complete. And, the student worked 8 hours a day! I asked if 23 days was usual. 
He said sometimes 24. Outside, there were about 23 shops dotting the grounds. Maybe there were really 24. A few middle aged women like me and my teachers group stopped to chat. They came from across these mountains, from---Tibet. 
We are from Ireland, 
Canada, and the U.S. 
The Tibetans told us about how they were forced to leave Tibet when the Chinese military came in and took their land. Here in Pokhara, in the Hamalayas, in the clouds, today, business was good. 
One of my friends bought a card of earrings
She’ll now want to get more piercings. 
I went back to the tanka store and listened to the Islamic chanters across the street  
The men rolled out their prayer rugs
 and sat with their long pipes puffing. 
I ordered a slice of German chocolate cake and sat by the lake in Pokhara. 
When the week stuffs my head with endless red tape, it’s time to stop and visit the Tanka store.

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