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-
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.