Just This

If I imagined —
If I could shape days and nights
Draw how each might unfold
Decide what I’d feel
What would I wish them to be

If I could call forth the perfect place
The people and moments —
Real, imagined, or assembled —
And shaped a perfect day

What would I wish to see
I’d wish for a day
To begin just like this —
Bright, quiet, stretched out
Stirring gently, here and there

Weather —
Shifting, fluid —
Some sun, a trace of shade
The body moving, easy, loose
The mind alert, yet still

Would I wish to be anywhere else
But this place — right here
I cannot think of a world
Where I’d rather be

Would I wish to be doing
Anything but this
I cannot imagine
Anything more than this

Would I wish to be
With anyone but myself
I cannot think
Who — or why

Would I wish for more —
Luxury, fame, distraction, games
Anything else, anyone
To attend, to answer
Appease, influence
Improve, acquire
Possess, hold
See, hear, or sense

I cannot think of anything
Have I lost all imagination —

Or arrived at the perfect place
In the perfect state —
Living, being
Just as I could
Ever have wished
My life’s one day
To be

What’s left to imagine
To plan, to build —
When all is already made
Plotted, placed
Beyond all thought —
To be inhabited

Not a thing I can point to
And say —
Not this
Or this
I’d want it any other way —
To look, to feel
To be known

I try harder — to imagine —
And rise, step out —
Into a street thick with dust
The stench of manure in the heat
Sun glaring, people sweating
Hustling, shouting —
Carts, donkeys, buses
Bicycles, rickshaws —
Crowding every inch of sight

The sky above — still vast, still bright —
And I search
For something I’d wish another way —

Sitting, wandering, searching —
I imagine
An old man, stepping from a splintered hut
Legs shaking, head bowed, hands trembling
I lift a sack
Hoist it on my back
Shuffle to the waste grounds
Cans, scraps, bottles —
I bend, collect, rest, catch my breath
Cracked feet, aching joints
And I wonder

Would I rather be anywhere else
Than here — beneath this vast sky
Maybe, I’d lie down —and I do —
Beside a stinking pile of filth
Flies buzzing, throat dry

Distant sounds
My breath slows —
The body jerks, pain strikes
Deep in chest
And I wonder
If I’d rather be
Anywhere else —

Still — I don’t know
Can’t imagine
Where else
I’d wish to be
But here

Letting the old man go cold
I turn —
Now in a cell underground
Stone walls, airless and dark
Skin torn, screams echoing
Each breath — agony
Grit and soot
In my mouth, my eyes, my lungs
I bash my head on stone
To end it —
And I wonder —

Would I rather be —
Wish to be —
If I could —
Anywhere but here
Maybe — air, just air
I pause —
Inhale with what’s left
Then smash my head
Against the rock —
And exhale

Earth, air
And sky —
A little water —
Some stone
A single day

I wonder if there’s anywhere
I could be
Where just this —
Would not
Be enough