Page 31 - Litteratteur Redefining World December issue
P. 31

Litterateur redefining world                      December 2020

                                                That arose in magic

             As it turned out, it wasn't at all necessary to murder magic. Our first date--magic again--
             was on Valentine's Day, 2017. Soon, Sangye and I began to live together, and we began to
             imagine a new life in which it was possible for an old death-haunted man and a young
             woman to love each other and to respond to the very different needs each of them might
             manifest at any time. I wrote this for one of her birthdays:

             There is a long lake                             To deliver you to this world?
             And trees surrounding it                         Was there another you
             In a womb-like formation                         Before this one?
             With marvelous, shifting                         What was your history?
             Clouds in the deep blue sky.                     What was the little girl
             I know this lake                                 Who looked around her
             Doesn’t exist                                    At a world
             But I think of it                                Which at times
             As where you were born                           Would be cruel to her?
             In Oregon                                        What lies were you told?
             A womb place                                     What truths?
             To which your mind returns                       What is it that makes you
             And to which, now,                               Sometimes shudder?
             My mind has access.                              Is it the memory
             I think of you                                   Of that lake, that forest
             Emerging from it                                 Those marvelous,
             With the magical name                            Abandoned
             Sangye                                           Wings?
             Defining you.                                    Did the boatman betray you?
             There are birds                                  None of this is true
             In this forest                                   And yet truth enters into it
             But they are silent                              And a magic world
             As your consciousness                            That radiates
             Arises                                           Delight and fear and love.
             And comes into the world.                        What were they, those clouds,
             None of this is real.                            Those trees, that lake, those wings
             It is story                                      diaphanous?
             Something I made up                              Could they protect
             To fill my mind                                  The living soul
             With what I cannot                               That arose in magic
             Know:                                            And carried with it
             Your origin.                                     Traces
             Were there wings                                 Of that Nowhere,
             That you discarded                               That magic Land
             At the lake                                      Through      all   your    loved,    tumultuous,
             And a quiet, bearded boatman                     passionate, fiery days.

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