Thinking the unthinkable — coda

Our world is here, below us. The one we see
in the sky is not the earth for us.
Ours is dirty and impure. Ours welcomed us
as we were. Ours will hold us when we rot.

I ride this world as if Ganesh himself
had placed me on his back.
I will fall as I have risen,
and I am content.

I do wish I was nothing again —
just my mother’s desire, strong enough
to come forth and be, too weak
to be more than that.

I wish I was nothing again.
Nothing is worth saving.
Nothing sits in the doorway and thinks
before taking a step either way.

Some of you understand this: A tree falls,
and the elephant straightens. A leaf falls,
and the tree lifts itself higher. And what will happen
if I fall? Nothing, I pray. Nothing at all.

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