Struck Dumb in the Supermarket Check-out Line

Luminous bodies, drifting and shimmering this way and that
in a quicksilver flash of blinking eye contact — Om Shiva
shoppers wheeling baskets of distraction or purpose,
hope or fear, through aisles of compounded phenomena
not located in any place that can finally be named,
but only imagined, for conception’s sake, for the sake
of all sentient beings, for the imminent expression
of that which strikes the cosmos dumb in that instant of Grace,
in the space between any arbitrary thoughts, that very space
and whatever whirls through it, the space between desire
and its satisfaction, and meanwhile at the check-out stand,
the petulant child in the cart inquires:
“Mommy, why can’t we have marshmallows for dinner?”
and Mommy says, “Because we can’t….”
Just so, I feel broken into a new word, a silent one I cannot say,
but it is with sincere gratitude that I shift from one foot to the other
and innocently smile towards the back of the head I stand behind,
my own head, and the heads of all the motionless shoppers
waiting in the infinite line from nowhere to everywhere,
some scanning the tabloids, modifying their fleeting perception
of imaginary people, perhaps spending the last few moments
before their death, composing themselves by not being conscious
of what breathes so close to them here, not death, but then again,
an inaudible sound, the sudden dissolution of the entire universe,
now, about to be accomplished in the simple blink of an eye,
and then its miraculous re-birth, in a heartbeat, as this light,
as ordinary blissfulness, as the gum-chewing young clerk,
replete with lip rings, who mechanically inquires,
“Did you find everything you were looking for?”
And in that pregnant pause before I can summon a reply,
I too am born again, and whatever is going to answer back
is not anything that has ever lived before, breathed before,
nor will it ever be the same again, not on this day or any other,
not with or without marshmallows, and so I catch my breath,
look the clerk in the eye, smile as if I had just awoken
and suddenly realized that I am hopelessly in love,
and then reply, perhaps with more enthusiasm
than ever expected, “Yes!”

About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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