Wonder and Oh Well

Wonder and Oh Well

no . . .
(a sudden clench of unhorizoned here.)

Perhaps I forgot that I am a crystal swimmer;
and that the rainbow-beauty I see
is only there if it is refracted through me.

Mostly I see clouds in my sky
like boulders and bricks
with mortar in the cracks.

But this doesn’t explain the where of wonder
just the oh well.
Which is to my life like the frequency of breath
and if taken away – breath –
really helps one find the wonder!

Oh well is the shrug of so much,
and wonder: the smile that
fills me in, as if I were a page in a coloring book,
a tear gushing from a wellspring of longings,
layered over by years of the sedimentary and cynical,
born of sacred, silenced childhood dreams.

A tear that wells right now,
here, in these eyes,
for the loss of wonder . . . . . oh well.

– Prabhakar.


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