The Tortilla Survival Protocol

from Crack in Time, poems by Shambhavi Sarasvati at Kindred 108. We're all kindred here.

I didn’t see it coming, 
but in the midst of all this
I kissed a fresh tortilla 
and whispered close
into its fragrant skin,
“Thank you for still being 
simple and sweet.”

I know 
that confusion and rage,
helplessness
and desperation
don’t go away until 
their end times 
naturally arrive.
But by filling 
our mouths
with any name of God,
we give these 
a smaller place
and don’t feel completely 
inadequate and fucked.
Om namah shivaya 

Likewise
offering small 
services to others daily is 
a medicine 
that reaches deep into our
tissues with messages 
of who we are
and who we will be
when the smoke 
scatters and the sky is
easier to see.

If we keep kissing tortillas,
roll mantras in our mouths,
and offer ourselves 
to each other as gifts,
we can survive any confusions,
smoke, and fires, 
not necessarily intact,
but who asked for that anyway?

from Crack in Time by Shambhavi Sarasvati

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