I spent four hours
reading and rereading
these private journals
of people who I do know,
I don’t know;
and then, done,
I wept,
looking up at my orange lit ceiling
(I still can’t stand white light)
and my room smiled at my tears –
refracting them into stars and faces
– wiping them out into galaxies
and creating fantastic places
without my normal, everyday fears
where I felt wise and understanding;
understood, undemanding;
freely given, thirty-six chances
to let them know they are my stars
and they are all shining
for living and not dying;
the wink while I waver,
and when they waver,
I am so proud that I
have the courage
to wink.
[for my Zen colloquium Fall 1993, CCS, UCSB]
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