for Carol, Rob, Aja, Amidha, Michael
The world is memory.
You tell about the little squirrel you found, fallen from his nest
hairless and smooth as a scrotum.
Now I remember that squirrel as my own.
Cry for him.
Off and on for the rest of our lives we go on crying.
We think we are stranded but we are moving at the speed of light.
Believe we are unloved while the Mother’s hands are all
Know with a certainty we only have a few years left to live
when we died a century ago
and it made so little difference we never noticed.
Catching sight of God
it’s like seeing a deer in the woods.
The colors are not impressive at first glance.
It’s God’s deer not Walt Disney’s.
If you’ve never seen a deer
you might miss it entirely or say to yourself,
“That can’t be a deer.”
Yesterday we walked to the river
one of us immersed in pain, the other aware of a unity.
The white water in the river below, the ringing of the hillside to the north.
High pitched trilling in the ear like 10,000 digitally recorded crickets.
Pixellated visuals of fir trees, dirt road, low hanging cloud
all composed of sound, light, and energy in the body.
The body itself is made from pin points of light oscillating fast
as moth wings flying into fire!
No difference between suffering and elation
between your body and mine
between the river below us and the sky.
My friend, despite what you say, I believe you are capable
of performing super human good deeds for all seven billion of us.
All of us at once, yourself included.
The common human heart may appear
shallow as grave
but it will open wide enough to hold the universe!
Our sun, our moon, all our stars are small as teardrops
We will be buried in ourselves forever
or we will burn, we will burn, we will burn
until we are free!
I don’t want to ever go past that love.
I want to stay where that love is.
It’s like treading water in a pool fed by springs
coming up under us
not gently but churning the water in a muscular way
the currents wanting to lift us all up
God has seven billion pairs of eyes but he is blind unless our eyes are open.
He doesn’t have a clue what he feels
unless we speak for him.
The Mother is other wise.