2016 02 05
While walking in a bright glass-shining mall
in Atlanta on a warm winter afternoon,
I see a slender woman with black hair
that shimmers around her oval sun-gold face.
I pause at flash of memory that beams
from eight thousand years ago when we stood
holding hands on sun-baked coast of Shin Sea
and wept with heart-aching love that we should part.
She boarded ship and sailed on cobalt sea
toward rising sun that beamed light in my heart
while I walked back to follow setting sun
many lives from Sumer to Oregon.
So now I know she made it safe to China
where her wise children multiplied and thrived,
and mist of morning hope in distant hills
still sparkles in soft gleam of her black eyes.
I smile and nod my head as we pass by,
and she smiles sweet as Kwan Yin holding bloom
of Lotus blushing pink from morning dawn
that glitters on lost sea of memories.
Though all my brothers and sisters spread out
from lush Eden to populate wild lands,
we gather on huge Ziggurat of Ishtar
and sing Ode to Joy with eight billion voices.