May 3, 1993

Death

 

Twice, best friend lost,

I cried.  What is it

To die?  No answer.

Ribbons of cloud in skies  

Arched high above life's imperfect...

River below flows on

Under rusting bridges, over rocks;

Dead trees, Styrofoam cups, debris

Carried off downstream.

Death, my friend,

Reminds me

Not to end in this way.

Time is only

Only enough for...

Death is my friend.  I avoid

Her, like the plague, as they say,

Like AIDS, but faces

Of those others who touched her

Still burn.  I can

Know her too, if I desire

That freedom I deny

Myself,

That dangerous embrace.

 

Twice, best friend lost,

Mind aflame, rage and love,

Images of him, of her, of us

Together again

Swirled like tea in teacup rapidly stirred,

Then stilled.  Reflected in tea

I saw teacup containing me.

Breath rippled my reflection.

The cup and I stayed

The constant chaos

From which changes emerge.

I am the North Star

At Big Dipper's end.

Consciousness is a vessel

From which universe poured stars

To shine in endless eyes.

If a star is unborn,

How can it die?  My best friends

Are a circle, flowing

Through me, leaf and star.

Beginingless is endless is

What we are?

Only in dying, life.

 

                                                -Joshua Putnam