When the storm hits
Where is the refuge?
Is it in the storm itself,
Because we have accepted it,
Surrendered to the flying bits,
The scattered parts,
The howling raging winds,
The spitfires, the lava heaving?
Do we fling ourselves
Into the storm, as if to say,
Take me where you will,
I can’t bear the alternative,
Of riding you out, hoping
You will not take everything
I have loved so dearly?
Is the refuge in you,
Who will, like me,
Cling to your fragile body,
Knowing how small it is
Next to the gargantuan storm,
The waves thrashing
In each of the directions,
The currents that will
Take us all? Do I hold you
As you fall, take refuge
In a life I won’t have to live
Without you, my love?
Do I have what it takes
To take refuge, finally,
In myself, which is of course
A sacred body filled
With all our bodies,
Suffering, clinging madly,
Holding out our hands?
Do I do the very best I can
Not to be idle, but to prepare
My house for the storm,
Lean on others doing the same,
Knowing that what begins,
Ends, that we will never
Be the same, that in the wake
Of fire, flood and hail
There is the awesome stillness
From which it all began?
– Tammy Takahashi
