The Bodhisattva of Compassion

has tears in her eyes, from all the suffering

in the world. The Bodhisattva is supposed
to show me how to deal with all the pain

I also see, the suffering in my life and
in others' lives. But I can only have

empathy and compassion if I feel connected 
instead of detached, apprehend the exact 

shape of what hurts or is heavy. Not as idea 
or abstraction but as throb, constriction, 

a knot in the middle of my chest that keeps me 
awake through the night. What to do, what to do,

when we are asked to see things clearly 
for what they are, instead of clouded 

by judgment and the many illusions of desire? 
The Bodhisattva of compassion has decided 

to postpone her own transcendence into Nirvana, 
in order to help all sentient beings. Salt 

gathers at the corners of my eyes, perhaps 
even at nerve endings. Pay attention, she says; 

stay and hold the ache in place until 
it softens. Detachment isn't abandonment. 

It means letting the pain be pain 
while standing close and not looking away.