the one taste

shocked, pushed against
her chair, she finds
her name in an old
Tibetan text
a fresh translation
“the one taste”

the shudder
ran through her
as a teaching
“the one taste”
so different from
“divine nectar”

a translation
offered when
the name was given
fifty years before—

this was simpler
or was it?
she sat in silence
until the taste
breathed her in
savoring

a dialogue
between name
and self
one taste

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.