Aspect ratio by Sara Marie Ortiz – Compass Songs

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Aspect ratio

by Sara Marie Ortiz

Fissures.
Beginning: thousands of feet in the sky high above the frozen earth, quite
possibly near Red Lake and the place of his birth and going-back-to.
There is a distinct likelihood of my seeing him again. And soon.
He still owes me money. And I still owe him something I don’t have a name for.
We owe one another more than we feel we’ve the blood for most days, something
like an apology for our blood, and memories, and dreams, and our bloody dream memories that
we began dreaming before birth; little infinite language of this.
Something like the promise of our bones and marrow coming to be enough, after all; just as we
are finishing up our last holy work here on the earth, just as we are finally getting the fullest light
in our frame, the promise coming to be everything that ever was, is, and will be, in the hearts &
minds of our
grandchildren, and our grandchildren’s grandchildren, if we can just muster the
blood, breath, and courage to bring them forth, away from the sharp icy tundra of
our little lasting human terrors.
Yes, you and I, my eviscerated loves, each and every one of you: we owe each other that.
and more.

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 Compass Songs is an ongoing series of works by poets that I enjoy. Poetry, as the Zen Masters have said, is like a finger pointing to the moon. It speaks the unspeakable.

Andrew Furst
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Andrew Furst

Author of two books, Poet, Meditation Teacher, Buddhist blogger, backup guitarist for his teenage boys, lucky husband and technologist
Andrew Furst
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