He promised me a rock,

then we laughed at the way 

in movies the hero always vows

"It will be ok.

I promise."

Now that rock anchor

is no more.

Set adrift

I try and hold my course

telling myself

It will be ok

I promise.

It will be what it will be.

Without a rudder

this vessel meanders,

the tides change.

I don't speak the language

of this new country

yet.

Unsure 

I stitch together

a flag to fly.

Beneath the mast,

below deck

I am naked

an emperor of no place 

It will be ok

I promise....

and I believe that 

until

Someone asks

Ruok?

And I realise 

I am not 

so much.

And though I stand 

In other countries

memory 

holds me prisoner.

Memory that the rattle and hum 

of my engines  

could be anchored

by the words

"It will be ok... I promise"

Now I am dismantled

all I have to offer

Is a map

and stories

of a Tibet state of mind