THE SON

He hangs on the guest room wall,
simply framed in black, adjoining
his more ornate, Cheshire-
cat smiling sister. He isn’t brooding
really, there is just a certain needful
sadness, as he stares out, imagining
how he pictured things would be,
how they were supposed to be,
realizing here, they never were,
never will be, and although there is
no failure, no blame, he wears it
as his personal armor, still
so easily pierced by dreams.

MOMENT

If you are patient and do not
look for it, there is a still moment
in each day when nothing at all happens,
when the silence without
demands a silence within,
when thoughts evaporate
like the mist of an early morning dew,
when you have precisely enough
and cannot imagine needing more,
when where you are is where you must be,
when the past and future float off
and their gravitational pull on you breaks,
and you simply are in the only moment there is.

ONCE

It was easier being Buddhist
when I was young, despite
the fact I had no good idea
what Buddhism truly was.
for a child the moment is all
there is, the past so short that
it means nothing, the future something
that will arrive as and when it wishes.
For a child, things will go wrong,
and do so with fair regularity,
but children are also physicists,
and the Lorenz effect guarantees
that it was never really their fault,
and when all else fails, they
simply blame karma.

STARING

If you stare at it long enough
it is certain to become familiar,
as though you have seen the very thing
in the very place and time before.
You know this is not possible, but
it allows you to conceive of the future,
even though that cannot exist, any more
than the past can now exist, and if it
once did, was it as you remember it?
The mind is ponderous, and grows more so
when it tries to grasp what does not exist,
and in the accretion, it subtly
curves space-time around it,
so that what is real and what is not
cannot be distinguished, and if
you stare forward long enough, you will
likely stare into the back of your head.