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C.N.P Poetry 

  • Writer's pictureCathexis Northwest Press

The house you didn’t build for us

By: Uranbileg Batjargal

The house you didn’t build for us Sits on a tiny hill Watching a shore of a foamy sea. There is a willow Weeping in the back yard. A red maple is burning bright too. Sun sets on the front door You on the front porch A mug of scotch  Me with a martini dirty and salty. In your eyes  I see the setting sun  Two birds flying towards the horizon where today ends and tomorrow comes. I hear their cries  calling for each other. Even in flight, they are united  coming together and getting apart. In your lips I taste the blood that boils in your head  All the passion you could not say By words, by songs. Your tight shoulders and heavy neck Burdened with what you refuse to unload But can’t claim as your own Unspoken loyalty to your father Whose limbs once stopped moving. Occasionally your grip was strong  your touch gentle and kind  but Often your words were harsh  your steps too gingerly. Your hands that never lifted bricks  For the house you never built for us Held perfect contradictions of hope and despair An ancient mudra undiscovered, never taught. The house you never built for us  Stands tall in another world. I go there often in my dreams To bless the trees that never grew Smell the roses that never bloomed Kiss the foreheads of children we never had. They say that to build a house You must do one brick at a time.


Uranbileg Batjargal was born in Mongolia, but left when she was 19 to study in Japan where she became immersed in the contemplative arts. She graduated from the University of Tokyo with a Master’s degree in Economics, and moved to the United States to pursue a career at the World Bank. Along the way, she was married — and divorced. Broken hearted, she returned to her connection to the world beyond the ordinary reality, through meditation and other contemplative energy practices. Today, Uranbileg walks in two worlds. As an economist and a CPA, she makes a living by managing budgets and performance reporting. She is also studying to be a meditation teacher and a practitioner of healing arts. And, she is a poet. Her writing is filled with the rebellion against the ordinary, longing for freedom and love, coming back to the roots. "I had a vision of my dream house while meditating on a mountain top. A house where I would finally feel a sense of belonging. Few months after I fell in love. During a hike on a beautiful day in early fall, I shared my vision of a house with him. He looked into my eyes and said: “I will build this house for you”. This promise left a lasting impression in my mind and heart. After our relationship ended, I realized that I was still hanging onto the house that was built only by words. This was holding me back from moving on to a place of true belonging in my own heart, that can't be built by words or by bricks."


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