When We Were Eight

When you were eight years old
waking to another perfect day’s dawn
what potential did you
with your autonomic intuition,
integrity of left deductive
with elder-right languages,

Who were you
as you stepped into morning’s warm spring sun,
first reminder of school year’s end
and summer’s leisurely recreation
of imagination,
role play expansion,
languishing loved laughter
replacing more challenging team sports
requiring a win-lose assumption,
and visual coordination,
of space with time
invisible to your perception.

What were you doing
lying flat on your stomach
in dutch clovered lawn’s grasses
looking down into a miniature jungle
without rivers,
forest for ants
and their insect tribes
and neighbors
and nations
and cultures,
some with advantages and risks and beauty
of flight,
landing lightly in grass-blade tree tops
as ants pursued more industrial economies
of richly nutritional value below,
sweet crystalline treasures,
jewels for their Aunt Queen’s healthy investment
in embryonic royal vocation
of developing naturally organic time,
endosymbiosis of a new generation
of flying ants,
Bodhisattva Warriors
for polytribal peace
with interminable faith
in our integrity of nature’s ecological justice.

Where was your family-owned business
of incorporating love
with truth and hope for inclusive faith
flexible enough to include boys
vulnerably drawn to other boys’ eyes and skin,
more than girls’ laughter and light heartedness?

How did you invest your perfect humid August days,
breathing Lake Michigan’s thick air,
reading Gone With The Wind
in wonder of such rich diversity
of spirit and ownership,
of integrity and entitled stupidity,
of nobility both within and despite poverty
of mendacity both within and despite superfluously competitive wealth
commodifying even beauty
and power
and nobility
and darkly rich fertile race?

Why did you love this embracing place
of multigenerational space,
your private caressing sangha farm
gardening your bicameral heart and lungs
mind and limbs in love’s familial
yet vegetative and fruit-filled embrace
so that no other place
could ever bring this organic sacred home again,
so that each other space
might ever bring this home regained?


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