for ernst jakob, october 13, 1921-march 19, 1998
i
pain is a koan in the middle of
your chest, or a
burning hole in the bottom of your
belly.
i have felt the pain
that no zen master would
deny
& i have seen the face &
touched the hand of
death
turning my body-being to
cold grey
stone.
ii
when the news of uncle ernst’s
death filled my ears,
i felt a joy & imagined a
chuckling soul ascending through
satisfied
clouds
but the others were taken
with slate fears &
weeping.
had they forgotten the wit, the
charm, the laughing soul of the
beloved?
shall we celebrate his
resurrection
thus?
iii
death is our returning to the
virgin
womb––
the silence after the
thunder.
iv
why did the mayans tear the
trembling hearts from their anguished
enemies? who are the hungry buddhist
ghosts? is cain still wandering the
shaming earth & moses waiting to cross the
jordan?
how can there be christian
soldiers? when will krishna
sleep & why
awake?
for now, let me
hug you to share our
breathbodies
&
tears.
v
if you need something to
believe in
maybe this––
gentle life
gentle death.