We Swam the Seven Seas

Tuesday Morning July 6, 2010, Assateague Island
On News of the Death of an Old Friend

Breakdown, cry. Stunned and saddened
We go way back, you and I, to 1962, almost 50 years
We went through Navy Frogmen/Seal Team Training together

We swam the seven seas together
The Atlantic, the Mediterranean, the Caribbean, the Pacific

We learned and practiced Yoga together on the beach in Mexico
I introduced you to my cousin and you went and married her
I was Best Man and got you to the ceremony late

Now suddenly you’re gone and I’m crying
A call on my cell from Mataji, the divine mama
He wants you to have a wonderful vacation
Now go jump in the Atlantic
Where you two would often swim side by side

I run into the water this early morning
Chanting Om Tryumbakums as I dive through incoming waves
Before I get one third through the memorial prayer
There you are right before me in our Guru’s arms
Like a little babe held over his heart
But you’re fully grown and smiling with gold light around you both

I swim and dive again and again like a porpoise
As I head back toward shore I see now, my brother
That you’re everywhere –
In these miraculous ocean waves sparkling with light
The sky, the beach
Everywhere, everywhere, no limitation

Assateague Island July 8, 2010
Northeast Wind Blowin’

Went swimming again this hot July morning
The gradient was terribly uneven, Joe
No place to land marines; tell the Command
But the ocean is as ever cold at first, then comforting

We all come here to earth and one day go on
“Gathered to our people,” as it says in the Torah
How and when is our karma
No matter that

Be so joyful, my brother
In the land of no boundaries, borders or limitations
See you again one day -- for sure
Om Shanti

* * *

As I’m getting in my car a family in a truck drive up
Park and begin to unload. I overhear the parents
Teasing two little girls in the backseat
“Mom and Dad are going to the beach, see you kids later …”

“Oh, no,” they scream piling out
All are laughing. “You guys are tough,” I tell the mom.
She laughs again, “Oh, we’re bad.”

The kids haul off for the water carrying between them
A big rubber boat filled with air
Shaped just like the bigger ones we used to roll off of
Strapped to a speed boat

Dropping frogmen every 20 yards

O’ those were the days, Sudharman
I’ll bet you’re swimming in this ocean right here, right now

In Sacred Memory of Sudharman Joe Fenton