Being Yin

I sense the unceasing silence of the night
a damper around my head.

This whirling winding wonder
not surrendered
but overcome
Even his sleep seems alive
No yin to his yang

I bend over him
   Siberian tiger stares back at me
   (cheetah, rabbit, snake, spider, otter...)
My old bones are already aching
I hover pure love
his unimaginably beautiful face
his fleshy hands, bitten down nails
his hair askew

I am the temporary Guardian

He sits up and his eyes are seeing another world.
He looks around - at me past me.
He turns again
his eyes stop


"hmmm?" I hum.

Then his eyes turn gentle: yin

He lays back down
into a soft cloud of tranquility
or so it seems to me
or I hope.

Then I hear the cheep-cheep chirping of the night.


christine oh . said...

i love this poem, komo. it's really beautiful.

Anonymous said...