Cathexis Northwest Press

© 2018 

The house you didn’t build for us
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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."