Among the Things I Do Not Understand

if God is the mighty engine of Newton

or perfect embrace of Saint Teresa


the wellspring of compassion

in Gautama Buddha


or endless reproducing of life

from smallest viral urge.


All I know about most anything

comes from you, good mothers,


such as, one chooses where to cut a sandwich,

the other chooses which half.


But, for the rest of truth,

I only feel a yearning toward it


an obscure steady pull

like an emptiness needing to be filled.

You are a Mountain — Blessing for my father on his 93rd birthday
Coincidings: A Ghazal