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12. THE GIFTS
Wrung dry of purpose
I—a lump of clay
On a road not traveled
Lay there waiting to be kicked.
The world
A shell at my ear humming
Of cosmic indulgencies.
I saw myself demolishing walls
Of stone to build bridges of stone
Demolishing bridges to pave
Roads that brought me to this.
Erecting tall scaffoldings
To out-reach tall desires and
Asking nothing of the world
In return.
What else is there to undo?
A raspy voice answered
"The superfluous."
Father Time himself approaching
Reading my mind—
Have I by chance arrived?
"No such luck" he answered.
When will this ingrown chronicle end?
"All you have learned so far is to forgo
What has outlived its usefulness."
Without much ado
Father Time invited me to stay
In this forsaken place.
Showing me around
The compound overtaken by weeds
He fumbled with doors
Hinges rusted handles missing.
When a door opened a red bull charged us
And shutting the door in time
Shaking his finger in warning
Father Time whispered
"Stay away from here. Destinations
Call for different skills."
In a gap between two buildings
I glimpsed a phosphorescent incline
Leading to prodigious heights
The pinnacle a gathering of suns—
Was this the mountain
Mother had in mind?
Denial not forthcoming
I slipped into the narrow passage
But a horse worn down by time
Stood in the way.
If it were not for the horse I thought
I would not mind staying here.
"The horse stays, it belongs here."
Said my host settling the matter.
*
First thing next morning
I went to investigate the bull—
Opened the door a crack and
Hearing heavy panting
Closed it fast.
But the color red must have flashed for
A ferocious lust invaded flesh.
Next morning I stepped outside and
Was taken aback—
Snakes all over the place
Not large not poisonous critters
But a spread of shiny eyes
Watching my every step.
Having left the house door open
I turned in time to see
Black streaks of ink slither
Across the threshold but inside
Not a snake was to be found.
Aware of being watched
I grew watchful myself.
Days later I saw a snake
Plodding spirals in a corner
Another sunning itself
On the window sill
Snakes in elaborate tail-stands
Saluting each other.
To rid the house of the loathsome
Creatures I threw them out
One by one.
A snake on the kitchen counter
Stared at me for days
Eyes pleading to spare it and
When only the listless one
Was left in the house
It started whimpering,
"Water... water please..."
Refusing to save it
I let it die where it lay.
One morning water spilled
Where the snake had lain—
Droplets aligned and a pink
Sugar coated water snake came alive.
Too fragile to handle I let it be.
The bulging eyes-to-be slowly sucked up
The body mass and still
The skin over the dark lumps
Failed to split.
Picking up the eyes-to-be
I noticed at once that when
Held in my hands they
Made me see far away places
In minute detail—
The water snake
Had granted me the gift of
Long-range vision.
I turned the gaze to the blazing pinnacle
Expecting to see the flaming nest
But all I saw was a golden haze.
Not knowing what else to do
I gazed out the window visiting
Places far beyond the horizon.
*
On the outskirts of a jungle
An elephant raised its trunk
Sniffed the air.
Trumpeting and flapping ears
It started running toward me
And three days later
The ground under my feet was shaking.
Seeing the elephant on the horizon
Raise its trunk and sniff the air
I slipped back into the house.
For days we played hide & seek
Until the day when I stepped
From behind a tree on the wrong side
And we collided.
Struggling under the elephant's weight
I found its flesh malleable and
Taking the bulk apart handful by handful
I slid out from under the frame
Only to find a smaller elephant
At my side—more ancient
More like a long-lost sibling
Than a beast of the jungle.
Apart from appearances
We were two of a kind.
*
My companion was teaching me
How to fix a course by scent
And stay on it.
Every morning we left the compound
And facing the wind
Targeted a faraway scent—
A caterpillar on a nettle leaf
A bluebird's feather in a bramble
A dew drop on a blade.
The speed at which I moved
Was decisive—if I ran too fast
I'd lose the scent and if too slow
I'd be distracted.
When speed matched
The intensity of the scent
I moved like a projectile.
Apprenticeship completed
I suggested we aim for
A shiny speck on the mountain
Always in my eye.
Instead the elephant proposed
I trail it by scent.
Three days later I found its carcass—
Bones picked clean and scattered
Skull crashed tusks yanked out of sockets
Missing.
Heartbroken I turned home
And there flanking the house door
The tusks stood at attention.
*
Next morning I woke up
To find beside my bed two
Lionesses grooming each other.
One rolled over and
As I scratched her belly
The other licked my hand.
Each day more lions came to stay
And familiar with their intimacies—
Every rub lick grunt and nip
An invitation for more—
In the thick of lion scents
Overflowing with deluxe sensations
I wallowed in heavenly delights.
One morning I woke up to find
The gates of paradise flung open.
On second look however
The gates were of the cage
In which the lions and I
Were cavorting.
I got up and walked out.
Steps away
The road split across—
The part I stood on staid level
The road on the other side rising
Too high to scale.
A lion had followed and leaping
To the top of the earthen wall he
Reached down and pulled me up.
The elevated road ran across a meadow
The scent of wild flowers
Intoxicating.
Walking side by side—
The lion on his hind legs
Paw on my hip—
Flanks rubbing lust ripening
We left the road for the meadow
And in the wisdom of lions
Made love non-stop
For a week.
On the horizon stood
The macho red bull
Outraged to purple.
Expecting to be whisked
To the never-again pastures
I clung to the lion until
Desire more ancient than flesh
Stirred the marrow in my bones—
Bedrock humming
Of a homecoming to where
Endings beget beginnings.
In voluptuous exhaustion
The lion said
"Sing for me."
Me sing? I have no voice.
Then and there
In the field of blooming wildflowers
The lion gave me singing lessons—
"First you must learn to
Inhale the passing wind and
Exhale without emptying the lungs—
Like this.
Then raise the back of your head
To let the spirit stand tall—
Like that—
Your spine is now a silver pipe.
Now toss the head sideways
To tickle the voice
Coiled in the small of your back—
Like that—
Now aim the sound like an arrow
Or it will scatter.
Above all remember this—
Silent posturing summons the voice.
The sound the song come later.
Now go home and practice."
Taking the roundabout way home
I let the voice come—
The eye
Favoring geometric symmetries
Made me sing in a contralto voice
The heart
Attuned to spectral variations
Responded in a coloratura voice
And flesh
Steeped in material yearnings
Sang in soprano with the rest
Of the world.
Flustered with lion-hearted conceit
I marveled at how harmonious in song
Was the chorus of me.
*
At the back door of my house
Five white horses were waiting—
The youngest
The size of a regular horse
Stood first in line
The oldest
The size of a pony
The last in line—
Five generations of horses
Come to visit.
I let them in but
Instead of keeping me company
The horses aligned in front of
Another door.
I opened the door and then
The next and the next as well
Until we reached the front door
Where the horses turned around
Starting back at a faster clip.
Obligingly
I opened each door again—
Horses running back and forth
Across the house
At an ever greater speed
Forcing me to move faster
Each time around.
To open a door
I had to be at the next one
Ahead of the horses and
Instead of racing five generations
I jumped onto the back of the pony
Always last in line and running
On backs of the running horses
Upon reaching the first
I'd leap over its head to
Open the door in time.
In spite of the thunder of hooves
The cloud of sweat and
The shaking of heads
In spite of the risks I was taking
Excitement reached delirium.
When at the height of speed
The pony sniffed at the front door
And I threw it open—
The pony leapt into the yard
And I ran after it.
*
Running in slow motion
Against a stone-mute silence
Against a needle-sharp light
I grew smaller with every step—
When I caught up with the pony
I was only up to its ankle.
Climbing up its leg I
Reclined on a rump three beds wide
The pile waist high
Lush enough
For long distance travel.
The steed took off cantering but
As soon as I fixed my long range gaze
On something
It took me there galloping.
Delighting in the intimate power
We held over each other
I trained my vision
On a body of water.
We crossed many horizons
Before we reached a sleepy lake
Water dappled with
White parasol clouds
White summer dresses
Ribbons of echoes
Strings of smiles
Dream-true voices
Drifting with reflections
On water.
The steed stopped in front of
A sprawling summer house.
In the veranda a long table
Set for a banquet—
Gold-rimed plates crystal goblets
Napkins in fragile unfoldings
Bouquets suspended in color explosions
Forget-me-nots strewn on
White Damask cloth.
I could not resist the temptation—
As I wished
The steed climbed the wooden steps
Stepped onto the table
And walked its length without
Touching a petal.
Amazed by such precision
I dared no longer query
The steed's intentions.
It turned homeward but
Then stopped short
Shook me off its back and
I fell into the stale gap
Between endings and beginnings—
The old trappings magnetic.
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