Poem

Oh, Woman.

Oh, woman

But there is neither men, nor women,

An illusion they are-

But oh, woman.

The buck, the doe-

Neither is the truth-

Both running through hardened snow;

The dirty footprints not yet eroded,

Though coded in different size and shape-

I cannot tell them apart;

Yet the woman I still take.

With corroded foot-print beauty marks,

Though the buck I do not hate.

Dukkha, the great separates-

Are serpents in the mud,

furling around amidst Eden;

An Eden just begun.

For though they are in two’s

And hissed their way down,

Among them I saw one,

Yet the woman I still found.

A coil through the door,

Is where I entered thus,

Not looking for the woman,

Just simply one to trust.

She made me tea and said to me:

“A man you be you must?”

Then I longed for a return  to Eden,

A fool in her den of rust.

The redness of her cheeks,

Supple lips that stretch-

Marks;

The stains that covered her teeth-

I wanted to simply touch;

At dawn she cried and at night she tired-

Though I don’t remember much.

And though I tried to feel a buck inside;

Her doe touch was too much.

The cracks in heaven choked out light

Upon our bodies, bare-

Searching for a sign of the divine;

I touched some strands of hair.

The cracks from heaven turned in my mind

A doe I was, like she;

But together, our footprints in the mud-

Had no discrepancy.

Take me back!  Take me back, Oh Eden,

Take me back to our starting ground!

Let Yaweh and Yeshua hold their noses;

As I zip her wedding gown.

Let bride and bridegroom fall down,

And man and women rest-

Let buck and doe become a dear star,

Adorning the moon’s silent crest.

Let sun change her before he dies,

But in the midst of his changing light-

She shines brightly just the same.

So let sun feel no shame,

But, oh woman, you are not to blame.

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