on the eve of
St. Paddy’s day I bake two loaves of bread.
banana bread from a recipe
i had in mind to double into (gold)en loaves.
was the baking for the work potuck tomorrow?
for the japanese emporer who
announced the coming of the tsunami and
nuclear devastation was to punish
the popular greed that had absorbed
her people away from their moral Nature?
if the wars and chaos of television
had seed in my inner world
of self destruction and turmoil
i choose to see the relation.
i will not run away.
i will bake bread from what
has become ripe and due rotting.
i waste nothing for my prayers
in front of the preheated oven.
the mind has forgotten
signs of difference from the
teaspoon to tablespoon
half a cup to whole cups
1 and 3/4 times 2
i can see in decimal form.
the hour is told on the faces of the clocks
so i tire myself according to the late hour
and press the bread to come in more solid
than sunken from the center.
i am no longer a beginner in the art
of baking recipes
but i fall on my knees at the imprecision
of my clumsy mind across the
measurements and perfect sense of
the banana bread.
i need more time and practice
with my wears and the preheated oven.
i have forgotten details
that make delicious aspire to divinity.
my hands do not remember
how to hold you without
chattering doubt thoughts.
i prepare for the homecoming
with every presented effort,
to be the unlimited love and
that the world cries for;
that the world cries from.
Text copyright ©2011 by Hae Jung Kwon. All rights reserved.