BY JAN HAAG
NEXT
11-3-97
Is it true, Devayani, that life is nothing but
a concatenation
of events, smells, tastes, touches?
Is it true that
sights and sounds
are the whole of it?
Is it true,
O
Devayani, that you will never figure it out, that death is
the answer
to every question, every
hope, every satisfaction,
every
unanswered
appetite?
And what is truth? A momentary stillness
of the mind, until
you remember the contrary, the converse,
the
reverse, the inverse, or even
just the verse, that
reminds
you of "beauty beauty beauty" in the soaring light of
the mid-
summer sunset. " O Bright Wings," indeed,
the gulls cry,
the vermillion
heart of life
crushed
on the road as you speed
through life, catching only on the wing
glimpses of a greater glory,
hints of a divine
plan. Has it gone wrong?
Or will we at
some
later time
take the time to understand? Will we stand in
the beauty of the
setting sun, see the silhouette of the hot
blooded dinosaurs nearing
the last of their
line
and weep
for the beauty that was, for the large-hearted love that
sustained
those great beasts for one hundred
and seventy million years
and
then withdrew
support?
O Devayani, when they went millions
of life forms all over the earth
disappeared. Look around today,
smell the death
in the air as species extinction under
the weight
of our existence
equals, exceeds
that in the days of the
dinosaurs. Have we been here three million years?
Are we already
declaring our readiness to leave?
Does Mother Gaia hear us? Does
she
dispair that we are incapable
of living
with others:
the birds and the owls, the whales and the salmon, the insects.
Seven
billion beings soon -- and intolerant of others!
Do we approach a
boundary event?
Soon? Are
WE
the boundry event?
Will no
one be here
to read this poem seventy years from
now?
Copyright © 2000 Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: jhaag@u.washington.edu
Feeding Frenzy
Gifts
India
Lung-gom-pas
Nothing
BY JAN HAAG