10.27.06
“No Dream of Gardens” and “Enough”
No Dream of Gardens
I have no dream of gardens,
lush and green,
like the Daintree rainforest
I once knew.
No dream of blue-green water,
diamond-flashing palm tree
black against the sun.
No dream of a place to go
when it’s over
and I’m shut up in a drawer
in a wall of drawers.
No dream of a beatific face, welcoming,
at the far end of a darkened hallway.
No dream of forever, ever after
after life, except
that someone might remember.
Enough
I brought home the sun
from a tropical isle
and laid it on my bed,
smoothing it out to the edges.
It shone bright and warmed the wintry room.
When tropical flowers grew there
and filled the room with scent and color, I thought
it would be enough ‘til Spring.
copyright 1997
10.14.06
Gandhi
They’re throwing marigolds and rose petals
on the coffin containing my ashes.
They’re chanting my name, hip deep
in the holy waters of the Ganges and Yamuna.
These ashes, my own ashes,
in a vault, cold and gray, forgotten.
I walked the earth with these people once
and stood on the riverbank with them,
loved them, and died for them.
Holy men wrap themselves in saffron,
women rest on a sandbar,
in this country, where some now call me enemy.
Give me back my ashes!
Toss them to the wind,
let them sink below the surface of your memory
and become one with my soul
which runs down to the sea.
copyright 1997
10.05.06
40 Years Married
I go about and read my books
and write my poems
and they congratulate me;
lighting candles, marking the occasion:
40 years married,
a very long time for a marriage
or a war;
I suppose there was a sense of direction,
in the beginning,
or maybe it was luck,
or an angel;
easy promises made
to love & honor;
easy because there was, I suppose,
nothing to lose
and the commitment was agreed to
without hesitation
or reflection;
And yet they marvel
while I don’t know what it is
I’ve done to merit the celebration;
I can offer no answer,
no advice
to those who want to know the secret,
who are sure there is a secret;
I go about and read my books
and write my poems
and say:
Once
I was young,
and now I’m 40 years married.
copyright 2006
