Monday, February 07, 2011

The Mother’s Stick Sutra

I dreamed that I’d gone
to my parents’ house, the
house I’d grown up in

to get the walking stick
I’d carved for my mom
at some point many
many years ago

But when I got there, the
stick was hollowed—
Termites buzzed in it
and it it was weak—
wouldn’t support me
now when I needed it.

The past will not neces-
sarily support
the present

The present will not neces-
sarily support
the future

The stick had been fine
for whom it'd been made
& when I'd made it, but

The past is a memory
Now it was useless

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