A Wintry Birth
Poem By Charles Chaim Wax
The wind turned about
and blew the keen squall into
my glasses. I started to count the snowflakes
on the left lens but it was an impossible labor
so I ceased and scanned the field. Snow
swirled directly before my face and in the distance
well beyond the horizon line.
Still, no matter how many snow-crystals descended
there would always be a number
but my eyes were not sufficient to the task,
and amid all this whirling profusion
no two would ever be identical.
I tried to walk on my hands but couldn’t
and tumbled to the terrain
and heard orange salamanders deep asleep
in a dreamless world.
I felt immensely joyful.
I didn’t care anymore.
Here was a place for me lost
in a billion billion snowflake falls. I didn’t care.
Unbounded generosity grounded
my mind. Surely others should
feel this and know, at least once,
life without clinging to desire. The sharp particles slammed me with ease
and melted on my
warm nose as easily. In this state
what could be taken?
One could only give.