Part 2.
Crossing the Falls on the Rhine at Schaffhausen
The vault of water bent
in pure polished velocity
an arch
a cleansing cataract, that
covered like a crystal dome
rising
twenty feet thick
sprouting
foamy globules, darting
like falling stars
unnoticed by most
on this coach.
Not seen by the head downward
computer nerd or the tattooed man
with earrings in his ears,
his eyebrows and nose, his
nipples jutting from a black fish net vest,
his eyes glowing like naked anti-freeze.
And there she sat
all blousey and bored
looking like every girl I had ever seen
rolling round a lap-dance pole,
sitting next to that scar faced man
a Charles Bronson look-alike,
his face like a slab of butcher's pork.
A killer of some sort maybe
on the run from a mob slaughter.
Outside a jet spray leaps
hissing
from the Fall
like a rocket bursting
into a snowy wind
driven away but filling
the air,
filling my heart,
filling my mind
with a sudden radiance and joy
Oh Jerusalem!
But thay all sat back,
eyes closing
like doors in a draught,
giving up their tensions and their fears
like
the dying surrender of a soul
on its way
to find rest.
A transition was taking place
as we crossed the Falls on the Rhine at Schaffhausen.
Saw the the houses
now looking larger
like holy mandalas wearing stained glass windows
alongside icy banks
where icicles hung
like daggers
a warning to the uninvited
behind a cemetery vault of time, place, dignity
allowing you to know
where you came from and where you will go.
Reminding me that below lay
the curdling wreaths of a restless crashing abyss
below the green of the water
dwelt a waiting burst of spring
lay curled
waiting.
And the coach brakes hissed as our driver said
'We are crossing a stream'
and we all cheered,
watched by a man stock still in his porch
looking at our snow kissed wheels
as our driver let the brakes dry.
The man waved and we waved backed.
He turned went back in
and his door slammed.
I was reminded that the soul's long searchlight
requires a body. The eye demands light at the risk of blindness.
And discontent is eternal.
Let the soul stretch its widest arms
and all the people shake with action
knowing that
nothing is truly self-sufficient
for
pleasure implies hunger and
hunger implies hope.
Hope and hunger
for a better way to live.
Oh Jerusalem!
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