You are not now who you were
like the river to the sea
like the sun's journey from east to west
this flowing never stops
this movement never ends
although you are fearful
and back away
the Holy One
is the Guest
and the Guest
is you
You thought you were a drop of water --
now you're the sea
You thought you were the sun --
now you're the light
I've heard you
in a blackbird's song
in the dark of night
in the whispering wind
can you hear me?
are you coming closer?
I've seen you
running with the deer
sleeping with a bear
swimming with the salmon
in the rush of the river
can you see me?
are you coming closer?
I've dreamed you
in the coyote's howl
the eagle's flight
the raven's caw
you're the flow of the slipstream
the song inside all
I search for you everywhere
can you hear my call?
do you dream me?
am I coming closer?
On the Rooftop
in the center of the
city
in the center of the
valley
surrounded by
mountains
and the far off invisible
Himalayas
standing on the rooftop
above the winding stair
I see in all directions:
the rising and crumbling
buildings
the smoky haze over the
highway
the five-colored prayer flags
swaying
the piles of broken wood and
corrugated iron
and above it all
eternally:
the curves of the stony
hills
the sun setting
behind them
with endless light
and endless
sky
Kathmandu
under a bare 100 watt bulb
in an old hotel in Yogyakarta
on the island of Java
paint peeling under exposed wires
laundry piled under
soot-coated pipes
filtered through cigarette smoke
and beer glasses
in the cool midnight air
to the rhythm of one guitar
in soft voices
filled with longing
we sing
long into the night
these songs of freedom
on the walk
across the Brooklyn Bridge
I lost the group
when they turned off
and I
hurrying to catch them
on the Bridge
somehow passed them
walking by myself
arriving in Brooklyn
ahead of them all
sometimes you think
you've fallen behind
when you're just somewhere else
on the road--
you think you're lost
when you're already
found--
perhaps at the point
of the Bridge
where you first see
Liberty--
or when you are no longer
on one island
but not yet
on the other
you're afraid you've lost
the way
when the way is right
before you
winding back
to where you began:
the child rocking
in the cradle--
the boy standing
on the beach--
the man swimming
toward the shore--
swimming still