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