One day
the Beloved
glanced over and
saw me schlepping
my burlap bag of memories
dull dreams
and weathered photos
across a landscape
of cars, glass bottles,
and tinted-glass personalities
like a lonely tortoise
having a near death experience
during the evening commute.
Curious, She picked
me up. My legs dangled awkwardly,
pumping the air
in their usual slow,
auto-piloted circles
as if nothing had happened,
as if I might still actually
be plodding along,
as if She wasn’t
holding me next to her ear
like a seashell.
I don’t know what She heard,
or what I expected to take place,
but I do know
that what happened next
cannot be explained
by either one of us,
as doing so would
probably annihilate the whole
lot of us.
It is apparent
to me in hindsight
that it– e.g. what happened–
was the outburst of a spontaneous power
incapable of erring,
whose essence is a Rule
so vast it is
the calculus behind every Moment,
and unbreakable.
I was
reminded
in that thunder clap
of mutually expectant Listening,
never to peer
down the barrel
of an antique artillery piece
loaded with a
passel of freshly minted Bodhisattvas
in the illusory, but oh so effective form
of an armor-piercing shell.
As to what
may have occurred
when She held me to Her ear,
if you know
anything at all about
resonance, amplifiers, feedback or
blown speakers, you may be able
to piece together the
joyous implications
of an under-damped
Silence
passing back and forth
between us,
permeated with hints
of Remembrance
and Recognition.
Telling secrets
like these ones
is dangerous.
Very obviously,
something had to give.
As a result,
I’m not like
other turtles–
I am other turtles.
Also I have become
an invisible goose
with eyes like
compassionate arrows
and a
penchant
for flying
with my friends
in a V-formation
straight into the sun.
