Being

I sit among them eyes closed doing nothing
I am somewhere being somebody
In a space that does not belong to me
I have a book about ecstacy and laundry
Read about nothingness and allness
Absorb some and become neither all or nothing
A crowd of people sit whispering sighing weeping

I sit among them eyes closed doing nothing
The footsteps of dissinterested children swoop up behind me
Then disappear in erratic zigzaggy rhythms across the stone patio
Someone stands, an older person groaning slightly, joints creaking
A child rises high voice not yet broken into adolescent croaking
A woman speaks from a high bench along the wall reads poetry
A gong sounds and waves of pure tone bathe us clean

I sit among them eyes closed doing nothing
Incense fills the air a cough a slow chant begins
Space glows with the spirits of the whole and the broken
Adding voices to the droning song of despair and celebration
The gong and the chanting and the incense meet
In an explosion of sense and satisfaction
That our friend who is gone will be forever here.

I stand among them eyes opened saying nothing.