I come now to the end.
The harness that binds me fast to the cart
Of this changing world has loosened.
I glance backwards once
To glimpse the detritus of my life lived:
The tattered loves, shopworn dreams, and bitter hopes.
Turning, I shrug off the fraying bonds
And step away from all I’ve held, such a dear heavy burden.
Lighter and with an easier breath,
I laugh, snap my fingers, and disappear.
Again I walk the loneliest streets,
Stumbling over the rough pavement
Or perhaps my own grief.
I listen to the clangor
Of the railroad being rebuilt
And wonder if I could do that
With the worn out structure of my heart.
I shake my head at this and say no.
Now I’m drinking black coffee in a bare room,
Reading the savage words of Aeschylus
And occasionally pausing to look out the window
At the vast indifferent city night.
This is where I’ve always lived.
This is where I’ll die.
When I was a child, I lived by the sea.
I swam in its waters and played on its shores.
Grey-bearded cypress trees and ancient oaks
Were my beloved friends,
And sea serpents taught me the beginnings of wisdom.
Now I live in the mountains far from any ocean.
I walk on their trails and gaze at their peaks.
Brightly garbed maples and hickory trees
Are my present companions,
And the bones of the earth counsel me on patience.
On a walk I picked up a stone and held it to my ear.
I did not hear the roar of vast waves.
But I did hear faint echoes of half-forgotten susurrations
Reminding me that I am loved.
The past is with us always.
When I was a child, I lived by the sea.
I swam in its waters and played on its shores.
Sometimes I would visit the sea serpents
Who lived hidden in the deep.
They told me many tales,
For they were griots, wise and fierce and ancient indeed.
Much of what they whispered
Has given me aid and comfort through the years.
But I have also learned this:
Even sea serpents can lead one astray.
Like all beings,
Sometimes they just make things up.
What do I say to your broken heart?
Just this: You are not alone.
We all wander the same terrain.
We awaken to cerulean skies with a dazzling sun,
Only to find that rain-laden clouds can drench the earth.
When we walk, seemingly sturdy roads crumble,
Thus we lose our footing and often fall.
Loved ones prove prey to different ills,
While we ourselves become halt and gray.
So in your grief and confusion, give not way to despair.
Here, take my hand. Lean on my shoulder.
We will carry our burdens together.
Eventually we lay them down,
Our memories becoming someone else’s treasure.
The fires await in the world to come.
But no, the land already burns.
Beware the floods foretold to sweep the land.
How so, when mountainsides now wash away?
Some gleefully add to the flaming pyre,
Dancing as the ashes scatter on the wind.
Some open the pipes to add to the waters’ rise,
Taking axes to the few available boats.
We want to stare in horror, as they hasten our demise.
No time for this luxury. No time for reckoning.
We can only save what we can.
The task is hard. The hour is upon us.
Take my outstretched hand; likewise extend yours to another.
Dark gray branches intertwine,
Set against the lowering clouds.
They mirror the tangle of roots
Hidden in the wet ground.
As below so above.
As I trace one serpentine limb,
It begins to glow then explodes
Into a metallic hue of industrial neon purple.
It blazes brighter than the sky.
I look away, only to see
Suspended above the trees
A single leaf.
It too starts to shine,
But with a deep indigo blue,
Vibrating to a hidden pulse.
Oh, the secret beauty we seldom see.
But, look! Look!
I don’t care about your potentate in the heavens.
Tell me instead about these, the lesser deities:
Who watch over the weary riders on public transit.
Who guard the rough walkers of the hidden hours.
Who consider the disregarded workers in menial jobs.
Divinities not housed in marbled churches
To be addressed by ministers in flowing garb.
Their presence is found in more common spaces.
The hard plastic seats of the bus.
The crumbling tarmac on the roadside.
The bloodied floor of the meat-packing plant.
No soaring hymns with organ
That are sung by an amplified choir.
Only brief prayers of plea and praise.
Oh lord, let me get home.
My god, they almost hit me.
Thank goodness, this day is done.
Their offerings come not in gilt plates
Passed amongst the monied hands.
A glance with a fellow passenger.
A smile thrown into a car window.
A greeting on the way out the door.
Sing love, peace, and goodness
And bless the small gods.
