Elsewhere
©December 3rd, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
It’s knowing that the end
Looms large on the far side
And knowing that this –
This long walk from way back to out there –
Is one that’s been done by all before me,
And will be done by all after me
That makes every branching
Timeline on this tree whose roots
Go deep, and whose branches so high
So comforting, so inevitable.
It is hard to hate, even if I do, at times –
For those who have harmed this earth, still
Breathe the same air, drink the same water,
Walk the same paths, from birth to death.
Every cell in my blood, every atom of me,
Has been recycled, passed through.
I have breathed in millions who died
Millennia ago, and drunk their essence
And eaten their substance in my food.
Ghosts pass through me, and live in me,
And I acknowledge them, even as a shiver
Rises from my feet to my head.
How, then, can I hate (even when I do)
Those who do only harm and bring about death?
They are creatures of darkness, but
Did they not come from stardust, also?
Everything is recycled, over and over,
Until, tired of recycling, everything gathers
Close together, bonds violently,
And blows the Universe to smithereens.
I will be a seed from my tree.
And float, winged through the dark,
And seed myself again on the other side.
I will be the tree, gather my broken cells close.
And sing another song, a song
Of strength, a song of love, the song
Of a different kind of life, in a different Space.
And my song will be the song of Renewal,
And my death will be the start of Life,
Elsewhere, Elsewhen.
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