Miroku
by rebecca ~ October 11th, 2006. Filed under: Poems & art.
(painting by me)
Miroku (Buddha of the Future)
Unformed air and cut ginger root voice
of the in-between inhale and exhale, Miroku, a curious god
to walk with toward distance drawn nearer step by step
and every and any direction is Divine. The simple way to live tucked inside
the pocket of her brown shabby coat.
Most run past her screaming inside, as we strive toward the next meal, pill,
best-laid plan, junk mail, jackpot, war, deal, steal, fix, fight, election, erection,
and everything we seek coated with sugar, sprayed with vitamins, soaked
in preservatives, plastic severed flesh and fruit wrapped for instant gratification.
Miroku, the true future, she moves the silent bodies of animals, human,
and insect, toward the unknown blindly, like fish swimming downstream, following
her we never lose the way to hesitation or complicate life with the muddied multiplication
of prediction. Miroku, never looking over her shoulder in fear,
never lighting up night with artificial light, never listening to the orchestra
of incessant buzzing above our office chairs, not entertaining cold dissections
of regret, no destruction, interruption of the natural rhythmic dance
of breath and dream.
Miroku waits. She exists in the woman who struggles with bloodying hands
to secure the rope to the tree in a raging wind because she wants to live.
She lives in that child who like an unshelled seed opens its eyes
to the nocturnal churning earth. She is always unprepared and traveling light.
If we wake up and open our eyes to see ourselves in the mirror, she stares back
a bit harder and longer each day, with undying and unconditional love.