Is It True
(For Hans, with love)
Is it true, Lord?
That if we bend down far enough
We will reach through to the other side
Emerging like roots into another realm
Where we take hold of another air
And breathe us fresher life into newer lungs?
A man afloat on a small raft
Adrift on a sea that could be the
Size of a planet it seems to him
And rages of strange killing intent
Swell all around and death hovers near
Passing between crest and trough
Of fear and rage, cursing and crying
Is this the perfect mortar and pestle
To grind the soul, to refine the little light?
Hurricanes and twisters of desire ripple
Over the land and very dark demons
Glow in between the seeing and the taking
The howling vacuums the landscape
Uprooting dreams, disturbing plans,
Ending hopes in energies of moving air
Nothing but moving air and our desires
Ice ages have locked the door to progress
Volcanoes have barbequed foreclosures
Earthquakes have upended predictions
Comets and meteors have made a selection
The sun could blow our sky away if she willed
Yet we still arrogantly plant the signs
"Private Property: do not trespass"
As if the stars and inky night do notice
You give a heart and then present the death
Snatching from death those who almost go
Leaving canyons of uncertain questions why
The baby dies young and the ancient mariner
Down the road has lost track of his age
Presenting the perfect opportunity for jealousy
Someone richer than imagination moves next door
Even worse, we develop enemies and see them prosper
Then the teachers who rotate our attention
Until we are well mixed and homogenous
And worse off than had we run with animals
The laws, the customs, the traditions, mere
Tractates that justify this and other wars
All in all our ends bound up with the means
National shadows that take centuries to heal
What of our personal shade that we hide from?
No sort of tan or burnished jewelry can distract
Our private knowledge that under it all we are dirty
Of the others' beliefs we cannot speak ill enough
Though we have no idea what his feet feel
Like walking in those shoes
How do You tolerate billions of voices who
All claim you to his personal jihad?
Is it true Lord, that were we to sit still enough
To let our roots come back the way they came
Having silenced our thoughts of importance
For just a few minutes, that we could remove
Our selves from this devilish circus?
Where all tents appear the same and a common
Air flutters all flags and all anthems sing one tune?
Is it true, oh Lord that we can experience all this
Or is this another bubble that will have to burst?
A man takes flight from his own doubts
But like all good shadows
He is overtaken by them
In the end.