By the Light of Night

I lie in bed waiting for morning

in the nadir of winter.

I remember I forgot

to destroy the hornets’ nest

and throw aside the warmth

to head barefoot into the crisp cold.

The hornets appear dead

except for white sacs

attached to their abdomens,

as if at any moment

one would become ten

a hundred become a thousand

a million become a billion.

I lie beneath the nest

assuming I rest on frozen leaves

— the way they sparkle in moonlight —

but the leaves are hornets

and my body’s weight and warmth

cause them to squirm.

I am afraid they will sting me

and I will die feeling nothing.

The more they stir

the more I become numb.

Out in the street the roar of a tsunami.

I force my neck to bend and witness

a majestic wave like a Japanese painting

— cobalt blue with tufts of titanium white —

swallow stars, the moon, electrical poles, homes.

I scream Tsunami coming!

My tight fists pummel neighbors’ doors.

A Tsunami! A Tsunami!

But they cannot feel the water

climbing up their calves.

I see him come towards me

but say nothing

for he hears my thoughts.

We run too slowly for the stairs,

our bodies like lead,

but eventually find dry ground.

We watch children running

up another set of stairs

that becomes a cliff

that becomes glass

shattering the children

who become confetti

flowing down the river

that was once a street.

Sound rolls on itself

and everything is flat again,

everywhere the softest dirt.

He takes off his shoes

and we curl our toes

and cannot help but kiss.

We see Mother Nature.

She is all sensation

and does not have eyes.

She is like Indra in the sky,

although instead of stars

infinite teats.

She is covered with life

crawling and sucking

and I think it is good she cannot see

because she might push them away.

When Buddhist priests sew their robes

large panels like fields of rice

lose their distinctness blending

into one precious garment.

Thich Nhat Hanh said,

The Earth will be safe

when we feel safe in ourselves.

First start with poetry

and fold the parts into one Self

like a sublimation,

a solid turning into air.