Woesel, Tenzin

Some years ago, I visited my grandmother and we went on a long walk to the far end of the village. During our time together, she told me so many stories of her salad-days; I cannot remember all now but one thing that has struck me since then was about how she left writing poetry. I have heard from her friends that my grandmother unlike other girls of her age when she was young, would spend a lot of time alone; meditating on life and sometimes imagining herself to be a bird. “She was always seen with a book and a pen, writing poetry in the fields.”, a friend of hers once told me. “In my early twenties, I was known as ‘the-poet-in-the-making’ in our village.”, my grandmother told me on our walk. “Most of my poems are melancholic for writing poetry had always been an escape for me. It was a friend whom I could turn to when I felt low. I also used to write poems that were beyond the personal. I loved speaking on behalf of the sad people to let know that they were not alone. I wro...

Born in the land encircled by the snowcapped mountains, Where human, flora and fauna lived in peace. You, the sun of Tibet rose from Taktser in Amdo On the sixth day of July in the year 1935. Your rays fall on every sentient being, illuminating hearts, The world rejoices in your presence, Your Holiness! As the red Chinese flag covered your homeland, You fled to keep the hopes of your people alive. Crossing the Himalayas into India's welcome On the thirtieth day of March in the year 1959. In Dhasa, the little Lhasa you found a home, You are our only hope in exile, Your Holiness! You promote human values and religious harmony, You spread love and compassion wherever you go. Honoured with countless awards, the Nobel Peace Prize On the tenth day of December in the year 1989. You travel the globe in humility and selflessness, The whole world looks up to you, Your Holiness! At sixteen you bore the burden of Tibet, Living up to the hopes and confidence of the six million. We will forever ...