"'Jiva, my daughter,'
you cry in the woods.
Come to your senses, Ubbiri.
		84,000
	all named Jiva
have been burned in that charnel ground.
For which of them do you grieve?"

Pulling out
	— completely out — 
the arrow so hard to see,
embedded in my heart,
he expelled from me
	— overcome with grief — 
the grief
over my daughter.

Today — with arrow removed,
	without hunger, entirely
		Unbound — 
to the Buddha, Dhamma, & Sangha I go,
	for refuge to
	the Sage.