Nagarjuna In Coney Island Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

Nagarjuna In Coney Island

Rating: 4.7


Helga stumbled into Meng’s Restaurant
in Coney Island
I was surprised to see her
in weather like this:
the bitter wind blasting in from the North
now close to zero and well below
with the wind chill accounted for.
“A waif, ” I said to myself,
“blown this way...that way.”
“Over here, ” said Tom Fay.
She sat at our table
her body swaying gently back and forth
eyes staring
at the red Formica table before her.
I wondered
how she walked through the windstorm.
Dangling at the chair’s edge
spittle drooling from her lips probably
just shot heroin into her emaciated arm
and needed a place to be warm
so wandered here
thrown from the shooting gallery.
Suddenly the Preacher strode into Meng’s
immense black Bible in hand
to spread the word of God.
“Satan grows more powerful
each day people sin,
but the rain will fall and the crops will grow
because Jesus loves us.”
Helga said, “Suffering rules creation at each and every speck in the cosmos.”
The Preacher fearing her soul
lost, Helga’s thin face the exact image of Christ’s torment
declared, “The Father in Heaven
gave us life,
the Father in Heaven
gave us an immortal soul.”
“Soul? ” said Helga
shifting ever so slightly
to the center of the chair
and craning her neck
to stare at the Preacher whispered hoarsely,
“The soul exists after death.
Yes or no?
The soul does not exist after death.
Yes or no?
The soul both exists and does not exist after death.
Yes or no? ”
I stared at Helga
her words, I had heard them before,
but where I could not remember.
Tom Fay looked at her saying, “So many questions.”
“The world is evanescent. Yes or no? ”
“What’s ‘evansint’ mean? ” asked Fay.
Without a moment’s hesitation
she said, “Ephemeral, fleeting, vanishing...more?
Yes, always more clarity is needed.
Brief, disappearing, transitory, temporary, meteoric, passing...”
“You read a lot, ” said Fay.
“Too much, ” sighed Helga.
Suddenly I remembered
the musical name and blurted out,
“You ever read Nagarjuna? ”
“Among others—
now this I ask you,
Where is he reborn
who has attained enlightenment? ”
“The Buddha is deep,
immeasurable,
unfathomable, ” I said.
But she didn’t hear my words
as her eyes gently closed and
she tilted to the left
almost
slipping off the chair
but not quite
suspended
in the Void
where heroin
pumped
Nirvana
into every heartbeat.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Hugh Cobb 30 December 2005

Charles, I particularly liked the contrast between the bible thumper & the Buddhist junkie it shows life in all its darkness all its beauty human & divine. A lovely poem.

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