can no longer be avoided:
I’m being haunted
by that weightless certainty
from which no one recovers.
Each day there’s at least one
point in time that lingers,
staring back at me, eyes level,
while waving the wind through the narrow pass
between us– unimpeded.
The wind is whistling,
and the machine won’t read my ticket.
Something ten thousand feet down
is yawning and long after I’m gone
its baby rocks will float to the top
and stare wide-eyed
through gaps in the night sky.
Meanwhile the tides are recalculating
because the moon won’t hold still.
It’s a Mexican stand-off.
Man and microchip are both frozen.
Neither can compute the angle.
The little pebbles all around
the concrete dais– they think
I’m the regularly scheduled programming.
But I’m not. We all get swept away together
into a world that lies between cause and effect.
if what’s happening with me
up here on the concrete,
so close to the sun,
so complex and unexpected,
is the predecessor to the moment
that will dissolve them forever.
They’re mothers told them–
while their fathers sat proudly below the harbor’s mouth,
holding up the ships–
one day the light will wash over you.
One day this place will be forgotten completely.
And it will happen
just as easy as getting picked up
by a girl with braids and a journal
and being carried across the country
to stand watch for decades
beside her music box
and a picture of her cat.
That’s when I feel the haunting.
My concentration flickers.
A bee too far from home
on a fall evening wanders onto my shoe,
and I look up to see
the tails of your robe
disappear over the horizon,
dragging my breath into your vision.
I sink to my knees.
In my dreams
I let them cut me into pieces
and carry me off, slung over their shoulders
like crates from the Far East
that have ridden in darkness
since before they were born.
When I awaken,
the silence is still warm,
and the emptiness
I’ve been daring myself
to heed with my whole attention
is obviously with child.
It doesn’t matter whose…
Why do we keep asking that?
Who did this?
No one could have done this.
We have to start preparing ourselves
for life outside of that question.
When Jesus awoke behind the stone
and knew nothing could ever be taken
from any of us ever again,
he knew exactly what I mean:
no one could have done this.
But still, this is who we are.
It’s time to prepare ourselves,
because it’s happening
with increasing frequency–
faces are freezing solid into building windows.
A leaf is pulled off the branch, never touched.
A sound previously unaccounted for
discovers it exists because of a meaning inside of it.
I know it’s time because
whatever I was before this
just closed its eyes and slipped
back into the water,
and now its gone.