མིའི་རིགས་ཀྱི་མུན་ནག་དེ་
རང་ཁྱིམ་གྱི་མུན་ནག་ཏུ་གྱུར
The darkness of humanity
has become the darkness of my home.
—Kyabchen Deydrol སྐྱབས་ཆེན་བདེ་གྲོལ, translation by Lowell Cook and the author
A Tibetan professor sneaks us home
to share a meal with his family.
He does not walk with us, only greets us
after he’s bolted the gate. In their kitchen
we flatten momo dough circles under the crush
of a rolling pin, as his wife’s motions instruct.
We learn how to caress them between thumb
and finger, leaving a raised hump in the middle.
My son plays with their son who grew up speaking
only Mandarin to ensure he’d do well on the state exam,
the gaokao. He rolls up his sleeve to reveal welts
ruler-hits raised. Now a tutor’s teaching him Tibetan.
My son’s learning numbers from his new friend.