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Say when you love and it hurts
everybody and leaves wreckage besides,
and nothing, nothing inside;
Say when your fathers, their children,
and your children die, hurt by fire and
sickness that leaves ash inside and out;
Say your beloved and her love dies of
self-inflicted wounds; you say "Oh, I have
memories!" -- but memories hurt like everything;
And Time inflicts its terrible hurts
on its Day creatures -- steel monuments
on bases of nothing at all topple, topple;
And the sun will reach out and savage
its planets and everything will turn in
on itself like a self-eating wounded shark
and crash into its nothing, nothing again
until new fire, new time, new hurt, explodes;
And you cry, "Where is God my Father,
comfort of my father, my fathers, who
in this nothing was to care but
cares nothing because He is Nothing?"
It is null and void. We are hurt beyond caring.
Your love, your fire, your time, everything, hurts.
Heaven Bone, #6, Winter-Spring, 1989 Chester, New York
Steven Fortney
To Part II And the Sunyatadavada
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