“For only Humans Can Heal.”
THE SUPPER THAT IS MINE
The world starting spinning in circles the day you left.
Even the supper you didn’t eat repented their life
spread out in equidistant
as though imitating rays of the sun—
Circles everywhere—like Vultures scoring a hole into the sky
beckoning disgrace of your flesh.
And I ask: “Who is the Food in the case where one’s beloved wanders off
through the Veil unknown to mind?”
For if our Flesh is God’s morsel,
then Your life was my bread.
It has been easy for me to think that
Days are made of plenty:
like a River with no end,
a Source with countless supply.
It’s as if Love blinds us to the shortcomings
of Time.
Even Your Love, Undying was darkened by
the Cloak of Time: as you Wondered when I’d left the room…
if I would ever…
Return.
I did not think Living to be a Privilege or an Opportunity
as Human Being: to care take, partake, intake the Wellness
of Another.
I saw it as a Burden—to be a Sufferer—Lowly Version of an Intellectually Conflicting God.
When I un-wrapped you like an unexpected Gift
I accepted the Offer…but over time, I Declined.
I became Lowly in my Love: expecting your Patience to cultivate Me.
I had Lost my Way…
I became a Thing Unknown to Infinity.
I knew not Sacrifice…but Burden—that Sack of Rock that weighs three pounds more
Each Day.
How I have mistaken Feeding to be a Chore,
Cleaning approved—only per my sense of Vain
Caring became a Task…
Over Time.
Pattern: it is something born Whole and Beautiful.
Time breaks Pattern like a suburban sprawl mundane.
Habit dulls and numbs the piercing vorticity of Love
it Stops Feeling from Flowing—it is the Ultimate Cadaver.
Time and Habit are the Dual Leaders of War:
They Fight not for Love—but for Death…
they Bring Famine, Disease, Decay….
They make my New love for you—Age Quickly and Bored.
They make my Promises—a piggy bank of Remorse.
They make your Meaning—a Fixture on the Wall:
Like a clock, tick tock…
I did not expect your Undying Love
to Stop.
I have been Persecuted by Time
and you my Beloved—were a victim of Habit.
That Day, of the Final Return—
the Breath puts out—but never breathes once more,
I saw Habit form a Circle around me as Time
Pierced your Heart—and escorted your Soul to the Giver.
Sacrifice.
None of Shame—but of Ignorance.
My tears released the Toxicity of all things I had forgotten to Feel…
Daily.
Daily as in the bread
Daily as what you’ve taken unto me.
Daily as what I offered unto you
Daily as I forsake my privilege as a Human:
to Love…
to Love as never old
Love is always New
it is always fresh
it is a Pattern
forming constantly
of Beauty
Perfection
and Undying Grace.
In Memory of my cat “Freedom,” Rest in Peace: March 17, 2007
“You have given me Love in the form of Knowledge.”
20070319/ Tuesday/ Brooklyn, NY
by Ji Rising/ Blogasana.com 
