Self-portrait, with One-eyed Daruma

When my student said she prayed to the universe 
for a sign— something specific but random, like 2 

red feathers— I remembered a gift I received 
some years ago. A red daruma doll, eyeless

and round, modeled after the monk Bodhidharma
who made a vow to sit zazen for nine years.

On this quest for enlightenment, he fell 
asleep on the seventh year; and out of remorse, 

cut off his own eyelids so he would never close
his eyes again. Because we are all looking for some 

sign that we're on the right path, I took a permanent 
marker and inked in his left eye, then made my own 

wish. Only when it came true could I give him his other
eye. I'm not sure now if he has the power to make my

desire come true, or if I've simply learned to trust that
given time, the universe will answer. He sits on a corner 

of my bookshelf, waiting. Outside, birds in a bevy of colors 
dart in and out of willow oaks and crepe myrtle: crows, jays, 

cardinals; black-crowned night herons whose droppings 
make nearly indelible marks on car roofs and windows.