Dharma Poem: Suppose — A Rhapsody on the 12 Nidanas

(for Jake)

Suppose you don’t know who you are
or where the hell you fit in the universe.  
Suppose that makes you act like your father
and you get caught in a body
you mistake for your own.
You reach out, feeling grumpy,
for something to satisfy,
skin, eyes, nose wanting contact:  
food, fame, sex, the cash box. 
Soon you’re grasping at random,
stuffing orifices,
and in your suffering
jettisoning the question of
who you are, what you’re doing.  

But suppose a rose is not only a rose
but a snake and a fish
and a bit of your heart.
Suppose every discrete piece fuses 
so you can’t tell you apart.  

Suppose you let go the questions
and plunge into the cosmos,
your father in all his wisdom within you,
your senses attentive 
to the song of a bird,
what you touch is your brother
and the scent of a flower does
a kaleidoscopic dance 
in enlightenment’s 
split second.

Just suppose. . .

© January 21, 2018 | Carolyn White

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