How we flow
into the world,
it seems to me,
is how we flow
into ourselves,
the whip
that we lash out,
at the sinner
kneeling down
in the square
also lashes at us
as we kneel
in our hearts,
the leash with which
we rein in others
from wherever
they are going
also pulls
at our neck
as we set out
for another life,
in this way,
the one who hurt us
is hurting too,
for
what could be worse,
than to feel
one’s heart flooded
not with love,
but hatred,
which is a river too,
only it is molten,
red, hot, and burning
all that it touches,
and it burns itself
in the end,
though we can’t see it
from where we stand
upon this mound of ash,
holding the whip,
we have no eyes now
for anything
but the bitter blood
that falls on the sand,
drop by drop,
while
everything passes us by,
the rainbows,
and the butterflies,
the leaves dancing
in the wind,
the toothless grin
of the baby
who holds no whip yet,
and a new bird
that is calling us
over and over this morning
to step outside
our heart
and our hurt,
to see the rainbows
and dancing leaves,
to hear the cries
of the one kneeling,
but it is not easy,
with so much noise
in the head,
it is never easy
to step out of one’s skin
and to step into another’s,
to see life
play itself out
from another place,
it may seem
as the same world
for everyone,
we are all inside
it after all,
looking out,
but we are also outside,
looking in sometimes,
so we know,
there are as many worlds,
as there are people,
and ants,
and anteaters,
a blue world
for the whale,
a sky world
for the sea gulls,
a sand world
for the lizard
clicking its tongue,
a rag world
for the rag picker,
a thread world
for the weaver,
a cell world
for the prisoner,
a word world
for the poet,
a thousand worlds
for the thousand bees
in the beehive,
to forgive then
is not to say
what happened was right
or that
it was wrong,
but to say this happens,
because it already has,
the rain
is not the cloud’s fault,
there is no need to call in
the moon to testify,
the flood is not
the river’s way
to avenge
all our mischief,
it is not,
though
it may seem that way
from where we stand,
we are the centre
of our world,
but so is everything else,
at the centre
of their own worlds,
existing purely
in and for themselves,
to sleep,
to stir,
to run,
to leap,
to bite into the neck
of the deer,
to live another day
in flesh and blood,
to start all over,
to forgive then
is to know
there is nothing to forgive here,
everything is the way it is,
because it couldn’t be
any other way,
if it could be,
it would have been,
in a different world,
my friend,
I could be you,
raping a baby
yet to utter
its first syllable,
and yes, like you,
I could run
into another soldier
with my gun and a knife,
screaming in fear,
and yes, like you,
I could take away,
the eyes and fingers
of children,
to send them begging
into the streets,
and yes, like you,
I could kick my wife,
in her stomach,
to get home my point,
and yes, like you
I could send words
into the world
as spears, seeking blood,
yes, with your story,
and your skin,
I could be you,
no less,
no more,
this life isn’t kind,
there are so many reasons
for us to fly into a rage,
and strike our hammers hard,
calling into question
the fairness of this and that,
to let it all out
as they come,
the oh gods,
the how comes,
the damn its,
and what the hells,
and spears too sometimes,
but
this life
can trip everyone,
you,
and me,
and the saint
meditating in his cave,
who will someday
run into the world again
hunting for his lovers,
so let me not speak
too soon,
and too fast,
from places so high that
I can’t even see
where you stand,
rather,
I would like very much
to
slow
down,
to
look
into
your
eyes,
and say,
what I have been longing
to say for a long time,
my friend,
whoever you are
if I hurt you today,
or many years ago,
with a spear,
or a word,
if I withheld a hug
for too long,
or if I did nothing,
but watch
as you drowned,
forgive me,
you see
I couldn’t be otherwise,
whoever you are,
if you hurt me,
with whatever you did,
with a spear,
or a word,
today,
or years before,
I forgive you too,
I see
you couldn’t be otherwise,
now,
if there is nothing else,
shall we move on
to the present moment,
it has been waiting
for you and me
to arrive for so long.
* * *
