engine light’s on again
reminding me to focus
on small details
(that tend to grow)
routine checks
that I am too lax to schedule
and are not, in fact, routine
a hundred tiny hints
now maintenance required
could be nothing
but how many minors
add up to a major repair?
how many hours spent
in this traveling temple
this sacred space
carrier of precious cargo:
blood, bones, dreams
and the progeny of all three
one-sided snippets of conversation
thousands of thoughts
holy silences
and zoned-out, spaced-out,
exhausted, unaccounted
blocks of time
awe
paranoia
fear
outright terror
joy
giddiness
gut-aching laughter
prayers
poetry
rage
howls
all the profane sacraments
when will this vehicle
break down
finally?
will it succumb slowly
to a last illness
sputtering, stalling
expiring quietly
unable to awake one morning?
or will it burn out fantastically
exploding in a crash
of noise, fire, glass and light?
it was not, after all,
designed, engineered or built
to last forever
I hope, when it happens
that I am not surprised
or angry
or sad
but simply able to walk away
from this beautiful wreck
created for motion
but now still,
starting its slow slump
back to its earthly elements
useless but for what it carried
I hope I remember to remember,
humbled by the prosaic—
and precious—
relics it housed,
having carried them
across varied geographies
of space and time:
purposeful dashes
aimless cruising
errands, treks
emergencies,
celebrations,
pilgrimages,
meccas,
and homecomings,
that I can humbly
and gratefully
acknowledge
its simple, divine utility
and let it go
January 08
