Lord, My Lord

 

In my dream, I remember,

face to face with my Lord at the stern,

the sailing trail agitates the surface,

ruffles the ripples,

disappears into water 

like fleeting bubbles in the froth.

 

He grins and asks me “How have you been?”

“I wish I can swim like a fish.”

He says “I can throw you back to the ocean

and make you a fish.”

“O Lord, but do not make me a shark,

with jagged teeth in my jaws,

do not make me a whale,

hunter’s harpoons never fail,

do not make me a bluefin tuna,

for sale at Tsukiji auction to fetch the highest dollar,

do not make me a sardine,

millions squeezing into the tiny space,

breathing to death in each other’s face.”

 

“Instead I can throw you into the sky and make you fly.”

“O Lord, but do not make me a hummingbird,

heeds gossip, dashes on every fickle mind,

hungry, thirsty, always in a bind,

do not make me a woodpecker, 

pokes, knocks, warns and alarms, all in vain,

do not make me a vulture,

strips carcasses, stems bugs and disease,

a sanitary vigilante to no one’s please,

do not make me a locust, 

swarms, aggregates, drear in fear.”

 

The veils in the air holding its breath, still and quiet,

as though we are the first to discover this strait.

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“I can throw you back into the clouds.”

“O Lord, but do not make me a drop of rain,

bringing dirt and dust back to the Earth,

do not make me a rainbow,

appearing only after the rain,

do not make me a morning dew,

perishing when the sky turns blue,

do not make me a dusky sunset,

rosy for a second, then comes darkness’s threat.” 

 

Reefs, caves, berths and docks, along the inlet, 

sand dunes on the shore, a bluff of woodland behind.

 

“I can throw you into the wild, back to the forest.”

“O Lord, but do not make me a wolf,

running with the loneliest howling,

do not make me a sloth,

hugging the branch to death, 

never lets go of the pining,

do not make me a dragon,

swims, flies, mighty miracle only in dreaming,

do not make me a thoroughbred,

trophies, records, un-ended yearning.”

 

My Lord is a patient God.

“There are no other choices then,

I’ll just throw you back to the world.”

“O Lord, but do not make me a driver,

stuck in traffic, I’d rather be fishing in the river,

do not make me a messenger,

confounded in the muddy barrier,

do not make me a follower,

groping around the ivory tower,

do not make me a ruler,

I’d rather be a scholar.”

 

All silence, the ship reaches the shore.

 

In my dream, I heard my own voice:

“O my Lord, one more, one last request, then 

I’ll ask not what God can do for me.”

 

“What is that, my boy?”

 

“Lord, my Lord, descend from the blue,

but throw me back to your Heaven.”