God Turtle In The Pond

God Turtle In The Pond
© Surazeus
2025 06 03

Startled by how fast light creates my brain, 
I hide in the temple where the wolf rests 
so children dancing in the field of skulls 
become ghosts in the television screen 
that grows so huge it swallows the whole world 
and crawls across the stars on turtle wings. 

People keep telling me about the war 
where the powerful country with more faith 
tries to conquer the weak country with guns, 
so I become god turtle in the pond 
whose shell Mercury uses to invent 
the lyre poets play when they tell tall tales. 

I wonder why, as I stand on the bridge 
and watch cars with bright yellow headlights glide 
below me on secret missions from God, 
cars look like turtles with round metal shells 
and diamond eyes that prophesy events 
that never happen except in fairy tales. 

How awkward this acknowledgement of pain 
that I record in the county courthouse, 
notarized by the blind prophet of love 
when Tiresias places in my hand 
psychic certificate that verifies 
conceptual nonexistence of my soul. 

Kneeling in small shack on the river shore 
under round lamp that glows with gentle grace, 
I hum in harmony with cricket song 
as moon rays stream through limbs of cherry trees, 
then, with horse-hair brush dipped in dragon blood, 
I write short verse expressing lonely joy. 

If the old man with long gray beard, and eyes 
that saw his family shot by guns of hate, 
plays violin by cement ghetto wall, 
he might find salvation in songs of sorrow 
that make people cry without knowing why 
though their sons are the boys who killed his clan. 

Instead of killing each other with hate 
the people of nations who fight cruel wars 
should invent new religion of one faith 
then marry each other in hall of mirrors 
so their children become one holy state, 
but no one likes his idea that much. 

Because I am god turtle in the pond, 
awake with divine consciousness of water, 
I fail to ignore all the suffering 
that humans endure with their fragile bodies 
animated by temporary soul 
of moon rays stream through limbs of cherry trees.