Some would say that faith
is like a padded suit you put
on because you’re too scared
to face the obvious reality
that your life is a swift,
down a steep
and rock-strewn escarpment
dark, ugly and
abyss of non-existence.
You’re afraid to die, they say.
Some of those same ones would say
there’s a real sweetness
to the glimpses of wild flowers
and spiral-horned rams
you manage in between
getting your face slammed
up against the sandpaper permacrete
of dried earth baked for centuries
in the beating hot sun
as you plummet
down your timeline.
I get it. Really, I do.
We should all just man up.
Here’s one option to consider:
Faith might just be that feeling
you get right as that quizzical
look gets hold of your face,
mirroring your insides wherein
a warm hunch is breaking
across the inside of your chest
like a spreading ink drop Aha.
It is all coming clear!
I don’t have to live like this!
I don’t have to live like this:
hung upside down from a cliff
by my ankles by two former
with an expired
bike helmet on my head,
wriggling like a hypoxic fish
against the side of a granite wall.
This is the moment when the
memory of Love returns.
It doesn’t have to be like this…
Immediately, you regain your senses.
You stop struggling and tap out.
They lift you up onto the ledge,
pat you off, hand you a vaguely familiar ice pack.
You look around.
There are pairs of wrestlers and hypoxic
fish like flopping beings in all directions.
Hafiz hands you a delicate white rose.
You notice he is wearing a harness.
He has been hanging beside you
whispering in your ear for eons
and somehow, together,
you have slain a great dragon.
He points to the trail that leads
up and out of this silly canyon.
Come. Walk with me into the Beyond.
You look wistfully up the trail, but…
Here it comes…
Watch it carefully…
I wanna’ go again you say.
I can Remember straight off.
I can beat the record.
I’m that good.
This is where the Memory of
who we truly are, when it comes,
is so incredibly sweet and vibrant,
so powerfully good,
it’s hard to imagine not
forgetting one last time
just so we can Remember again.
It’s hard to imagine what we’d do
without a long, hard road to
freedom ahead of us,
an impossibility to overcome,
and the delicious discovery of Self
at the end of the session.
That’s one option,
but hey, maybe it’s time
to let ourselves know
what Love is like when it’s not
the punch line to pain.
Maybe there’s courage in that, too,
to resign oneself to that type of death.
As you make your way up the trail,
to take your mind off of all
your cliff-hanging glories
you could ask yourself,
does the Beloved pay all those
crazy wrestlers by the hour?