My Aging Lover In My Arms, The Dharma Poem by Jeanne Larsen

My Aging Lover in My Arms, the Dharma
affirms itself: the simple truth of how
things are. 1 long fall of water
here in a landscape of waterfalls & we 2
not sitting still to observe, not crossing

over. Immersed. We've walked this trail [the bracken,
shadows, these river-birds flitting & trilling]
for decades. Call our enjoyment the energy
body. Call it clinging, or both. Call the breathtaking Law

of cause & effect sanditthikō, evident
here, now: I may think I get it. Say
ehipassiko, inviting, engaging: I might idiotically smile,
cherishing you & your invitations, bowing before

my own confusion like 1 who mistakes
a clay doll for a buddha, the wayfinder's map
for the way. You too smile. & that bending
of flesh that ripples & runs

like whitewater, onyx, like tangled streams
of causation, moves on. Headlong, it sinks
into the porous underground lime. I warm
at the sight, clutch at the warmth, begin to think bound

to samsara by what to each other we
are. But, love, we've long known desire
is impermanent. We've known these slick rocks
& the footway, the brush against skin

of the alders. We've known how body
shouts as a master might to a student, Do you
understand, do you? Speak up. Quick,
quick! As if the student cherished

bewilderment. As if the student, the wrong
-headed student, stuck on the riverbank, stared
at twist-shining chains of actions, results.
Were smiling & clutching. Hadn't much time.