The view from atop the temple
Was claustrophobic—
Miles and miles of monotone green,
A forest of uniform trees.
At the time I could only be proud
Of conquering the steep, slippery climb,
Of rising through the underbrush
And into heaven—
—your strong arms resting atop
My shoulders, around my neck,
Your lips pressed against my forehead,
Your heart beating against my ear—
But now I remember something you
Told me on a chilly October night
Well before that March of wonder
Far from this frigid home—
Back then, when our love was still not
Sturdy like that temple built to last
Innumerable eternities, when it was
Primitive
You called our love monotone
Unchanging like that perennial green jungle
Extending all around us, eating us alive—
Tedious, wasteful, mortifying
You were afraid of it, of the constancy,
Stability, permanence—you were afraid of the
Temple and the jungle, of an immutability
Your restlessness could not understand
You wanted the temple crumbled down,
You wanted war upon war, civilization upon
Civilization, ceaseless death uprooting those
Millenary trees—
The progress of destruction and the
Destruction of progress. Nothing
Was ever enough for you—
Ceaseless restless mindless
But I—I saw time stop its
Ceaseless restless mindless
Ticking when I reached the top of that temple
And looked out at the world below;
Yes—I held my breath for a moment, and then
Took in the humid air of the Yucatán, and then
Looked into your unreadable blue eyes, and
Thanked God for that moment of stillness
And for the green of that deep, inscrutable
Forest, the green of my own eyes,
A green balm for the soul that wants to land
Somewhere and there forever rest.