MISTAKEN

So, here I was waiting for the red bus so to headed towards my class. Usually it takes 15 minutes but I guess not for today….I waited there with my hand folded together.Hi ! she said, I gave her a smile and then suddenly she starts to speak so fast in some languages that I was unaware of…..I am sorry, I didn’t understand….I said.
I think she is a Chinese and she might thought that I was too….Asian people do look similar. Her cheeks became red as she felt embarrassed….with her innocent smile on her lips, she asked, I am sorry, where you from?(oh girl you don’t want to know)..I am from Tibet but I came from India….Tibet, she said aloud…Oh, Tibet… (As if Tibet doesn’t exist) her innocent smile turns out as rage against me. For the first time I realize how strong that word “Tibet” is….so that was it, the end of the conversation…..I know it was going to happen.
Next morning, I was waiting for the same bus at the same bus stop, but this time I’ve come with full preparations with my “Free Tibet” batches on my bag and wore my “Team Tibet” coat. I was trying to make them less embarrassed so they don’t have to mistaken with themselves.
I know if I wish I can pretend to be someone else, something that is not “Tibet” maybe I will get more friends…..but I can’t even think of it…..I have to make people to think that “Tibet exist” and “I exist”. I have my own identity, my own culture, my own language, that I will always be proud of….this journey for me was not easy, but I am happy that I can represent myself with my Tibetan people in “exile” and I know this is the perfect time and perfect place to explore myself…..
I am also an ordinary person like you and I am not a Buddha or some enlightened one that I will keep tolerate such things like once our ancestors did because they are very genuine and they don’t harm others….but I am afraid I am not like them, I will keep speaking truth and I know that “truth can’t be hidden for too long”.
Now, whenever I wait at the bus stop….my conversation ends before it starts….but I am the way I am, whether you like it or not….I don’t hate you and my arms and hearts are open for you and you are welcomed anytime….but remember, I do exist!

in agony

often i cried out loud
you can hear
perhaps, if you lend your ears
i am begging you to listen.

can't you see i am in deep pain
the words were not always enough
the tears tell you the untold things
seems like it won't stop flowing.

once, the land was filled with snow
now, its filled with blood
blood of my families, my friends
yet, we are only here talking big theings.

SO CLOSE YET SO FAR AWAY

Sad, when sun sets
Moon shines, when sun returns home
You and I are like sun and moon
Never destined to meet each other

When sun shines, moon disappears
they both passes the whole day in solidarity
Moon shines, when the black blanket covers the sky
Alas! No chance of seeing the sun

Waiting for you to shine, but in vain
But we still keep trying, hope is there
Our life is like this
So near, yet so far…..!

WHAT'S IN MY MIND

my heart aches
and the rain weeps
the leaf falls apart
the thorn stand still
wonder what makes it so sharp

i am holding a pen right now
wonder, if only my hand could express what's in my heart.

SILENT

From a distance I saw a silent hill
The silent kiss of salty breeze blows by
sitting under the Oak tree
The leafless branches can’t dance
naked poor thing in dismal
took off my old Converse shoes
while drinking the cup of sorrow

WHEN?

when will i return?
to my homeland...the land of snow
that I've never seen
alas! Tibet's been hidden
and so do it's beautiful and rich culture
but, when will Tibet free?
don't say, not in this lifetime
but, i am afraid of losing my country
and i don't want to be another face in the crowd.

WONDERING

you can never tell, what is going to happen? for instance, take my case....i have never thought that i would be here, far away from my loved ones....but, i end up coming here, i am still kind of home sick....i was never away this far?
but, i guess, this is the taste of life.....
honestly, now i came to realize, how painful it is for being in "exile"
i hope everything will turn out well.....and as all know that "truth can't be hidden for too long"

WAITING FOR THE MAGIC

people say, there's not a thing called "magic"
they say, i am a silly girl
but i strongly believe that "buddha"can't be so cruel
and i am waiting for him to open the "magic door"
i see every single tibetan, dying every second in "exile"
always praying hard for a miracle to happen

my only wish is to return back to Tibet
and touched the soil
and soul of my ancestors
i only wish

YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE
there's no one else like you,
you are my anchor,
i am not afraid of dying now,
for, i know that you are mine....

to pooh!

you are like the sun,
always protect me from the cold
you are like the moon,
soothing my soul in the summer.

to pooh!

TRUE WARRIOR

my father was a lion among man,
he was a brave Khampa man,
fought against Chinese army,
but, he was failed to fight against his illness
and he left silently, without leaving any further messages.....

when i came home,
i asked my mother(Ama) about my father
she cried, but i didn't understand
i asked my sister, why is everyone crying,
i was a silly, small girl....

i think, i was denying to accept the truth,
still now, i feel him close to me,
and i know, he will be always there for me.

i am a proud daughter of my proud father,
yes, he has a scar on his back, the sign of a true warior....
my father(Aba) was a hero in a real sense.

FOLLOWING THE TRACES....

once the land was filled with snow,
but now is covered with blood,
tried so hard to find the traces
alas! i never found it!

MU'S LIFE....

I was on a bench
Watching every one on campus
A girl was talking on the phone aloud
With a cigarette in her hand
Bunch of bicycles tied with chains…’
Everyone was rushing on their way to library and class
Some were Americans, Africans, Chinese, Indians
But I was the only Tibetan.


A boy and a girl were holding hand
I wonder, are they in love?
Some were dragging their feet under the tree
The girl was still on the phone, with the cigarette half gone

Everyone was checking their text messages
As they don’t have anyone to talk to
poor creatures, i wonder what they think
They are slaves, slaves of the so called “technology”


I saw a man on a wheelchair, on his way home
Some were drinking starbucks coffee, while walking
Some were listening songs to an i-pods
I was at the center, watching everyone

Like I have nothing to do, no one to talk to,
I feel like a alien....


Everyone has a backpack, full of books, water bottle on the side
Iheard the bell rang (aloud)
The girl was still on the phone, her cigarette was gone with the wind
the girl went to the class.

The trees stood still
A pale leaf falls on the ground
A squirrel was trying to hide, as if i was going to hurt
but, i am not anyway

I walked further, sat on a wooden bench
Birds were chirping as they were trying to tell me something
The bell rang for the second time

Someone forgot his empty cigarette packet under the bench
I wonder who left it?
People were walking up and down
A tall man with a low voice, tiny ears.
A skinny boy with a load of book on his back, I am afraid he may fall…
I knead my rosary over and over again...
and yes, i feel like an alien

MELTING

The day passes so fast and time swept by as you wake up every morning….and yeah, every day you wake up is a birthday. I thought it was mid of October but, no longer had December come knocking at my door and it was the seventh grade and it began to snow and snowed for two days.
The morning I woke up was beautiful as everything was covered with snow and it looks so beautiful and it was more beautiful maybe, because it was untouched, but an hour later it was no longer as pure and white before as it has black and brown spots and traces everywhere…
The first day when it snowed the students were so happy and excited, they were throwing snow everywhere and it was so cold and I missed the sunlight, the heat and the greenery…everyone was having fun but I can’t able to enjoyed it fully as there was something missing.

That day was just so cold that it’s hard for a man to survive without any shelter to live or warm clothes to wear. But the day ended full of laughter of my friends.

Next day, it was still snowing and I thought I don’t want to waste this beautiful day and will enjoy every moment….but it was no longer a happy and cheerful day when I heard the demise of my father, honestly, I couldn’t believe it first but as its always hard to accept the reality, I cried the whole day, not just because he passed away but because of not sharing my time with him.

As I watched the snow, at some point we are both the same melting deep down in a place where it’s warm and dark and I prayed for his reincarnation as a human, to be born as a Tibetan again.

Now, today when I see snow, I somehow kind of going back to my seventh grade….and it gives me a strong feeling of life as impermanent and whether we believe it or not but we have to melt one day….like the snow.

A HOPE

Every day I wake up with a hope,
Every night I sleep with a prayer,
Every new year I greet with a smile,
Hoping the sun will shine soon
Everyday monk prayers chanted aloud
Everyday an old man marches step ahead
To reach in time to his homeland
Everyday an old woman knead rosary with her thumb
With a hope to sleep in the lap of snowy mountain
Every autumn the wind blew
To take my messages to my people.

SECRET

Secret by Sonam Tsomo

I grew up in this small room in exile
Eight people, four bed
Our home in exile is not actually a home
But more of a guest house

As we are not in our land
Not an inch to call mine
The walls are not strong enough to protect me
And the tin roof complains when it rains

Often I ask my mother about Tibet
And she would tell me the untold stories lies behind the Himalayas
Sometimes she weeps but I fail to understand why?

My mother, I watched my mother as she lay prostrate
Her missing teeth and wrinkled face.
Her eyes are closed when she prays
As if she is expecting too much.
She cries when she laughs.

She has been through the pain of losing her country
Losing her loved ones
And the pain of never seeing them again.

Once she had a home in Tibet,
The forbidden land she left behind.
I know she is in great pain,
But I wonder how easily
She swallowed the grief.

I know my mother’s secret of hiding her pain:
The deep sigh and the pauses when she talks…
But I won’t complain:
She is a hero because she survives.

I know all her secrets
Of her Crying in the rain.
She is getting smaller every year
Her hair turns greyer every season,

Coming from the Himalayas
Walking on her bare feet
I know my mother’s secret
Of wearing those torn shoes.
But I won’t complain
She is a hero because she survived.

RAY OF HOPE…..

I know a place, warm and dark
Far away from the reach of evil world
You are safe, don’t be afraid
I keep revolving around you

Every morning, from that hole, the sun will shine
Nightingales will sing sweet songs
Every night, from that hole, the moon will give you light
The owl will keep an eye on you…don’t be afraid


The owl will keep an eye on you…don’t be afraid
Every night, from that hole, the moon will give you light
Nightingales will sing sweet songs
Every morning, from that hole, the sun will shine

I keep revolving around you
You are safe, don’t be afraid
Far away from the reach of evil world
I know a place, warm and dark

WAITING LIST

I hate to open my eyes in exile home
I hate to got to bed in exile home
the walls are not strong enough to protect me
and the tin roof complains when it rains
I am tired of being a stateless citizen
I want to live a life with no fear
but how can i console my soul
the fear of losing my identity
losing my country,my people
I am tired of sharing my loneliness
in the starless night and honestly
I'm tired of living a life like this
with no country....no recognition

peace
sonam tsomo

TABOO

“There’s no greater pain than the loss of one’s own country”

It’s my saddest part that I have never been to Tibet; I was born in northern part of India and my parents were forced to flee Tibet, my father was a very brave person but alas! When I was in 7th grade, my father passed away like a blowing wind without leaving any further address. In India, we live in a very small house and we are eight children and I know how hard it was for my mother to look after us but I guess she is a strong women as she have faced many obstacles on her way from Tibet to India….but I used to imagine myself in Tibet with green grass, high mountains and yaks….and I was happy in that world of mine but as I grew up I faced the real world and the real Tibet, makes my heart break into pieces…

I have lived a life of refugee and we have to renew our passport every year in Indian registration office with a smile….I know how hard it is for us to go through that situation and I have my father’s family in Tibet whom we have never seen and I remember many years back that we were told that our father’s sister’s son died…but its sad for us, at least for me to react on that situation, of course there is a feeling of sadness but it hurts more knowing that we had not met each other….and what is left for us to do is except some prayers….and the worst part is that you’ve never met your relatives.
Honestly speaking, even though I was born in India and we have no country I' m still proud to be a Tibetan, proud to be a follower of H.H.THE DALAI LAMA and LONG LIVE HIS HOLINESS THE DALAI LAMA.
Now, the situation in Tibet is getting worst every second, In Tibet the Tibetans are not allowed to speak our language and most of the teenage girls are working as prostitutes…..they are forced to do this to survive and to feed their families….how could we blame them? In Tibet they are living a life of threat under Chinese regime….and I want to make it clear that when i say Chinese I don't mean the Chinese people, it is the government and we are not against Chinese people.


Now, what I am afraid of is Tibet becoming a taboo…and gradually Tibet will remain as just a name….I am afraid of losing myself and the rich culture of Tibet.

BEHIND THE HIMALAYAS…

My mother told me, it’s cold behind Himalayas,
She is forgetting the view as her hair turns gray.
I try to find traces of her footprints.
She is hibernating in her old age.

Behind the hill are her endless stories,
Not found in any library.
There's a hollow feeling in my mother's heart,
Where the wind blows into her emptiness.

Her stories crouch in the cold.
The bell of memory clangs around her.
I'm my mother's Saint Teresa,
Writing her worries and stories down...