FOR MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE IN HER SICK BED

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I have come from the river
singing Om sri sri aing aing namah namah
“Beautiful Mother, I am kneeling, I am kneeling.”

At home I tell you how windows can fill suddenly with sky,
how purple finches will fly through the walls of our bedroom
where there is not even a rug on the floor
not a quilt spread across the bed.
Only one old chair and all the birds of heaven
circling inside us!

Your face is open, red and gold as a maple leaf
where welcome drops of rain will pool
for hummingbirds to drink.
Through our kitchen window there is a light
innocent as a sea shanty sung by an eight year old girl.
Let us live in this welcome light.
In particles and in waves, let us live together
inside this welcome light.

 

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