​I Could Never Be a Bodhisattva

by Ahna Philips

For I am sure that if nirvana
were in sight I would abandon

you and everything less luminous.
I would not look back

to extend my hand and pull
you along, foregoing my transcendence.

I’m inclined to disbelieve those
who say they made this sacrifice--

that the glorious nothingness
of All was theirs to non-grasp,

yet they turned from the light
to reach for my hand

in the dark.

Then again,

maybe I would
take the Allness
of your temporary hand

if I were in the theatre,
or on the sofa, on the subway,
or in the library stacks.

As I think on this and think again,
there are many reasons 
I would take your hand

and ways
(perhaps as numerous)
to transcend.

Ahna Phillips is a singer-songwriter, creative writer, and arts facilitator. She earned her B.A. in Literature (Wheaton College, Illinois) and M.A. in Theological Studies with an Arts concentration (Regent College, Canada). She has worked as a literary agent in Nashville, and more recently as an art program director for artists with disabilities in Austin. Her poetry has also appeared in Radix and Crux. A note of explanation to this poem: in Mahayana Buddhism, bodhisattvas are those who could have achieved nirvana, but refrained so that they could help and teach others. 

ahnaphillips@gmail.com