the title of this poem

the title of this poem
is "backwards and forwards"

back, because we are never
prepared for this

forward,
because we must be

for even on flowering tree days
we have not seen all,
have not tasted the leper
or conjured a suitable image
of a Divine we can
intimately rely on

...not so far
...not as of yet

we move
back and forth
to reclaim then to retain
to release then on an eve
of starlight falling down on us
(a light snow in the stillness)
we stumble on our lovers' remains,
to fall apart
to fertilize the soil
with our remains as well

of not knowing

all of this dry science
all of this medicine and research
this technology
that seeks to map
every instance
of our spontaneity

there is no place
for silence
for not giving
answer

for question
hanging over
precipice

what of not knowing?
what of fear
with no abatement
until the soft song
of complacency
dies down
and we are left alone
staring undying space
in the face

praying backwards

praying
backwards
gives me
serenity
I ride the stream
back to the source
-- original heart

Dude L

curlicues
dashes and dots
jotted down
in patterns, imprecise
in pictures precocious

these things matter
more
to a boy
in a dull room
trying to keep out
of all of that
bad education

reading braille at night (sort of after Rumi)

courage my loved one
fearful days have arrived
but only because
you have summoned them

it is an open-casket funeral
behold your beautiful face

come,
drink from the faucet
like you did when you were young

you are free
like the light that consumes your fear
as you take your own hand
and laugh
for all the things you never wanted
in the first place