Four-Armed Avolokiteshvara - Malika Bouhdili

Four-Armed Avolokiteshvara

I awoke on sun-warmed grass

Nothing but light, hills and sky

Then saw a simple white robe

Draped from my shoulders to my thigh

I thought, Where am I?

Then something caught my eye –

A path of red and rose colored petals

Decorating a meadow until it led to a tree

And as I followed them they floated

Draping and adorning me.

My robe grew to my feet.

And was red and pink and free.

I arrived at the tree

And watched it grow with such speed

Taller than the hills behind it

Taller and I wanted to flee.

Frightened, I looked down

Saw my knees on the ground

Naked now

In cold shaded grass.

And there from soil emerged a figure

Growing grander than the tree and sky

Illuminated like the sun itself

White, four arms at its side

I started to cry.

It didn’t speak, but it asked me

What do you need to know?

I told it about my throat

And how my chest hurts me so

And I have doubts if I can glow

Or help beings in the throes

Of all the suffering on this cold

Cold grassy ground.

The being’s eyes beamed kindness

And I could feel my bruises swell

Then it reached out with one of its palms

And on my throat it fell.

But then it kept going

Through skin and flesh and bone

And pulled out from my neck

The most beautiful flowering rose.

And then another of its extremities

Suddenly upon my heart

Again it gently pushed aside

Blood, breast and clots

Until four arms emerged from my own chest

Like white new born stars.

Then I watched my altered body

With six hands free and lithe

Pluck roses from my throat

And hand them to the sky.

There were more roses than tides

More than glimmers in the night

And my arms never tired

Of gardening and giving.

Suddenly I began to grow

Rising as grand as the great being

Skin becoming thinner and luminescent

Until two suns embraced

Nothing but light in our place

Which blended with the blue

On the blankest brightest canvas.