He sits on the edge
peering down, shaking
in the breeze, knowing
the abyss below waits
for a misstep, a slip.
He stares up, waiting
for her return, hoping
she will soon arrive
bringing the meal, never
enough always wanting more.
He knows he will
someday soon have
to leave, but for now
all he can do is spread
his wings, flap them,
until it will seem natural
and then, only then
when he is strong, can
he lift up and become
one with an infinite sky.
When I least expect it, one
may unfurl wings and lift
into a clouded sky searching
for the hidden sun, or
it may wander off, a child
momentarily free of parents
off to discover the real world, or
it may retreat back into
the pen, unwilling to be seen,
objecting to its misuse, or
it may sit in front of the TV
and watch soap operas
and game shows, not caring
what is on the screen, just
escaping from the damned page, or
it may sit still, be tucked away
and hope one day to be accepted
for all the world to see.
If you fall, 20,000 arms
will lift you up,
when you sit
10,000 join the Sangha.
If you walk barefoot
in the snow
I will put socks
on my feet for you.
If you hunger, I
will give you an empty bowl
and this will be
our shared dharma.
A reflection on Case 47 of the Shobogenzo (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)
We often believe that the best way
to honor the dead is to praise them.
When my time is gone, do not praise me
for your praise will fall on deadened ears.
If you believe in the power of the word
speak aloud in my name,
if you dare, commit the deed
as you believe I might have done,
if you can, lift up someone else
even though my arms may have been
too weak for the task in my own day.
As I am leaving you a world,
you will soon enough leave one as well,
and if that world is better than mine
for the sake of your efforts
that is all the honor I could hope to imagine.
an old writer and his words 