Old Crow's Advice

When your rock gets heavy, snuggle under it.
When you’re down in the hole, let it deepen.
Bottoming out, you’ll feel the turn;
then follow the stir of the desert wind.

The world will tail you day after day,
yowling and yapping – especially at sunset.
Build a fire out of what should have lasted.
Stay upright, chanting your real name slowly.

Let the dead rise up. They’ll speak through you,
they’ll rattle your bones. No way to explain,
and no way to get round them.
Relax in the hold of their healing hands.

They’ll take you out, out to the horizon;
out where the desert begins to sing.
This is where fools stand still,
like birds who won’t open their wings.

If you’re going to act that dumb
you’ll just turn into stone and sand.
No, there are eyes in this desert:
take in their question.

Roll into its heat; burn off your weight,
croaking and crowing to yourself.
The desert will draw close, very close.
Let go, and let that song go to the desert.

Let your last deep song feed the desert.

Forget all the echoes.
Here, nothing ever comes back.

From: Travels in the Middle Land, Dhamma Moon, 2013.

Posted: Tue 17 Nov, 2009