Wednesday, February 06, 2008

On The Outer Edge of Blooming

Ideas wake images up.
Images wake up ideas.
Dreams come alive.
Dreams do come true.

Roots need water.
Everywhere now is saturation,
except in the thirsty ground.

I remember the rich inky blackness
Of war, stamped seals of approval,
Signatures we all share.
After the bomb blew,
Who knew
What else would come true?

What would come of our destiny dreams
Some knew,
Others came to know,
As we do,
And Oppenheimer himself still
Staggers into sunlight
Wondering what happened,
Remembering, or searching for the names,
The faces, the reality of those he once knew
Those who have disappeared, now a different future.

Memory is faded,
A cloud of it,
But never truly gone-

After all, what does memory mean?
I pull a silk scrap from a drawer,
A piece given to me by a friend sewing cushions
For her handsome sons-
I thought you’d like it, she said, with a playful smile.
The cloth has a black dog on it
and pink and red designs, repeating black dots.
This silk scrap itself a sign
To simply bring a smile.

Don’t lament those long gone.
Go on, love. Love each precious One.
The energy of this scrap of cloud alone
shows me the eternal impact of what we do,
who we are, each one.
Each powerful light of thought, gift
scrap, also ripples, each touch,
A smile from eyes crinkled and dim and yet
Still somehow bright with light from within.

Dreams coming true
Wake me
As if I’d never been asleep,
And the thrill grows like a cloud
Loving the ground,
Wet steam, sun.

No comments: