i am stripped bare
shaven
and put under sedation
(( aham asmi - i exist))
awakening, the breath obscured by a tube
i am let out
from where i don't know
into a world of beeps and tubes
nurses like angels swing
thru dark clouds of drugs
(( morphia - soma ))
i am present in the moment
sitting up in bed
someone brings me orange cordial
(( nectar - amrita ))
the Buddha smiles but he is sharp
a needle goes in
i am not the body that is suffering
(( i am breath i am prana ))
i watch the clock hands slowly plough the day
i push through the minutes like hours
hours like mountains
- mountains of solid rock
this is the practice
the sesshin
- a routine of sharps
"bed 14 is a 48 year old male..."
suffering is delivered in little morsels
and as a wash over everything
this is the business we attend to
but then -
a mental flip
and there i am walking on Arunachala
breathing cool air, touching moss on wet rocks
seeing an empty sky
there i walk
looking for my cave
where i will sit and inhabit that close emptiness forever
back in the ward
someone is moaning. a tray brings soup.
a nurse lays a hot blanket on me
nausea rolling in my belly
i am present for another needle
that night i get trapped in a dream
running around inside there is no escape
some task i must do.. a coil of rope..
but i have forgotten what it is i must do..
awakening i find my pain medication has worn off
the rope was the buzzer to call my nurse
i press the button and summon relief
* * *
when i was young songs and poems used
to land in my hand like birds
they still do
but first i need to treck far into the mountains.
