I Meet Her Gaze

Wednesday morning,
the March snow from yesterday
is melting, I have off.
It is well past 5 a.m.,
I do not have early shift,
no bus no car no leaving.
I have not fed the "kids",
yet they are at peace;
the tomcat snores over my left ankle,
looks up, I meet his gaze,
he snuggles in and sleeps.
The cautious temple-kitty sits on the floor
to my right and gazes up at me,
I meet her gaze and make room for her,
she springs to my right thigh,
stretches long and snuggles close.
On my left, my beloved turns toward me
and holds me to her,
I lay on my back, receiving, receiving.
I have not risen to make Puja.
Finances are a shambles,
who is left that I do not owe -
the wolves are at my neck,
we own little, undertake nothing,
what shall we make for breakfast.
Yesterday I share with her Trungpa's statement:
that "the bad news is that we are
in free-fall, with nothing to hold on to, and no parachute;
the good news being, that there is no ground."
She finds this discomfiting,
I explain that it speaks to the impermanence
of anything, of everything.
That we are idiots – and precious, divine, and in God's hands.
That in the bardos we perceive this more distinctly than now -
although the "after-death" is simultaneously moving
in every moment of our life; the bardos are now and with us.
She gazes at me and says: that one thing is permanent, her love for me.
I meet her gaze. Nodding.
It is now 8 a.m., my heart soars like a hawk.
It is a good day to die.
And to be reborn.
I rise to feed the "kids".