"'Jiva, my daughter,'
you cry in the woods.
Come to your senses, Ubbiri.
84,000
all named Jiva
have been burned in that charnel ground.
For which of them do you grieve?"
Pulling out
— completely out —
the arrow so hard to see,
embedded in my heart,
he expelled from me
— overcome with grief —
the grief
over my daughter.
Today — with arrow removed,
without hunger, entirely
Unbound —
to the Buddha, Dhamma, & Sangha I go,
for refuge to
the Sage.