(then the unwinding…
special words passed along from a dream
while she went off swimming somewhere)
as the stonecutter approached
catching me unaware
well before words were spoken:
this trembling, my new passion.
I lay down in the grass prostrate before him
baring my chest to accept his dagger,
but a fierce wind kicked up
sending me rolling down a hill
with each tumble picking up more speed,
till the next moment becoming suspended in air.
no longer could I sense my body
lost somewhere inside a spinning top,
whirling, with no ability to resist even a curious fly.
I'd become a leaf,
a flower,
a discarded seed of fruit.
I had passed on to another side…
and as the three of us stood inside a garden wind,
he repeated:
“she is much more powerful than you now,
and you have seen to that.
I am nothing more than an accidental catalyst.
you have merely died, and any power you possess
comes not from this world,
for your greedy love has made you a casualty"
he continued:
"to fight back would turn you into a zombie,
a man who only steals
life flow from the living.
would you be content to gnaw at her flesh to survive?"
"you must surrender, sit in silence,
confront your true feelings to your own fleeting self
as your poems abandon you in your solitude."
"a fierce wind blows around you!
submit!
accept this death and
let transformation begin,
for we are an unmovable force!”
I ran to a room with his words
frantically seeking a mirror,
but what I found was covered by a white sheet
as done by Hebrews when a loved one passes.
to rid myself of a burning thirst the water I drank tasted like seawater,
and it was clear my friend was long gone.
I was alone, first searching, then frozen without breath.
and I died that night.
would anyone recognize me?
from somewhere: “I will said the magician. It is my pleasure to collect broken souls and pitch them as pennies into a fountain. And yours is a rare one, indeed! It will be a time before you sink, and I shall enjoy the trick, for my time is eternal!”
another voice: “I shall recognize you”, said the astrologer. “I have studied you and have come to learn your heart is more extensive and more vulnerable than most. All that fire, indeed! Your ideals are like slipping cards under the table of life; you have been a fool to think you could continue to survive in this game, for one cannot bluff the dealer, the one who owns the cards!”
finally: “I will", volunteered the Poet. "For I, like you, have considered Plato and his yearning for the Ideal World. And I too have walked those certain streets and garbage alleyways, longing for something more than the flesh; a secret world of gardens from the heart where sunflowers constantly bloom. I shall recognize you, Brother, for your essence shines through the night, and I have followed the light wherever you have dreamed. After this tempest passes you will no longer be the same. Have no fear! For changes evolve into true riches of the mind! Poets become Springtime's walking Hearts, and we have seen and loved this in you! She is a weaver and your colors reach through her eyes to her heart. Yes, at times we become blinded from too many rooms to enter, and another’s sojourn displaces our own. She is your Sister. You have tasted each other’s essence, and never shall you abandon that glory.”
Can this dream I have been dreaming an intimation of dying?
If so, I do not fear the tired hours when eyes are heavy and sleep entombs.
To surender one's self willingly is to sing songs unknown, unaware.
This stillness screaming inside my heart soon soothed with acceptance.
I own this life.
And I continue with my work.
The Sister is the Poet
stumbling along her way to be authentic, true to her heart.
And her heart and mine are singly strong.
Luminous, as hearttunes softly sung.
May 17, 1977
Bisbee