Monday, June 27, 2011

Write-A-Thon Day 2

She Sank Before She Rose

The earthquake caught her by surprise

she was asleep over her work, the legal papers

scattered, the tax forms piled, making her a pillow

(she had dreamed they were dead leaves)

and then the world broke open,

shook and shuddered, and in blind instinct

she dove, clutched at her head, huddled

balled-up and fetal, back to pre-birth to prevent

post death, and did not know what happened

for at least a few minutes after, until the world

regained some sanity and calm, until she realized

she was alive but trapped, pinned like the butterflies

she had wept for as a child when her big brother caught and killed

them to collect their pretty, iridescent husks,

as if stealing and hoarding empty shells were true love.

Trapped, lost to dust and smothered heat, but still a lit spark,

they would look for her, she hoped she prayed, they would find

rescuers would dogs would friends would know she were here

have the tools to find and save her, not give up till they reached her,

but meanwhile the air, so little air in this pocket

a barely-sufficient niche scooped out by a table with work that had been so important

now insignificant beside air (water and movement and food, soon too)…

She slowed her breath and thought of the still pool

memory of a Zen master she’d gone to when younger

who taught her to sit still and straight, think still and flowing

think of the pool not to be disturbed by petty worry

mindfulness of breathing, just the breathing, just the heartbeat

let it slow, control, transcend the moment –

the way you chew carefully to get full flavor, not gobble

the way you sink into a warm bath, not splash

the way you melt into an embrace, not grab –

the great Sufi mystic Jelaluddin Rumi, in the fifteenth century,

had once written, in his poems, concerning two types of breath

the breathing that is a shame and suffocation, and the other breath

love-breath, opening up, free, free even if the body is trapped

lost to dust and smothered heat, but it doesn’t have to die now

doesn’t have to die here, for if the mind can float freely what of a trapped body?

While the mind sails, though, ground the soul, keep it within

not ready for heaven, so much to do still, please Anyone Listening,

Anyone Seeing, please let her breathe, please let her think of mortal home not

immortal home, please let that be some other day, some other death

she wished for the light to come to her, rather than she to light

calmness was her friend, philosophy her teacher

meditation her medic, her nurse, her doctor, all-in-one until others could come

till there could be glad cries and sobs that another was saved

one fewer tombstone, one fewer body bag, one fewer casualty in the news

though she wanted to cry and fight, she knew it would kill her

exhaust her will, use up the air in her precious pocket,

so she forced herself to lie still, and dozed and prayed and breathed.

She wanted water before long, the one thing Jesus reportedly complained

about, thirst, such a simple thing, rather than other things he could have lamented,

his unjust martyrdom or pain, meanwhile she was obsessed by

an itch in her leg she could not scratch, thought about the money

she’d pay to scratch it, held back a laugh,

mustn’t court hysteria, must stay calm

breathe, breathe, breathe, let the mind float but keep the soul within,

slow, slow, slow, s-l-o-w, s—l—o—w—e—r

self-preservation, she must live for the sake of those who loved her,

she must live for the sake of the good she could still do,

the sights she could still see,

the lives she could still touch.

The love-breathing, not the panic-breathing, the still pool

in her mind, rationing each second still alive until resupply,

until finally, finally, finally, finally, finally please

she heard the scrape of shovels and the barking of hounds,

more than twelve hours since the earth went mad,

more than twelve hours since she woke from her dream of the forest,

more than twelve hours yet she was still alive and only moderately harmed,

all the breath she had desperately craved there for her,

she gulped it in immoderately at last, greedy for it, so glad

so very, very glad and relieved,

just to be

alive.

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