In the gardens of Kampuchea the lotus sprout from skulls.
The secret of life is to attain belief that nothing will be there when I return.
Extract expectation from the squishy gray matter,
plant it beside the lotus, through the eye socket, the nosehole, behind the grimacing teeth.
The lotus grows from slime, from the blood, explodes like uraniumenriched earth,
spattering brains, bits of bone across fields,leaves a meteor's crater in my breast, deep, torn.
But no matter, life is like that, full of pain, agony, torment
and yet pure, unblemished lotus sprout from skulls.
~ Jan Haag, 2003