which possible light

away from the center of the terrible heat
i, too, can forget.

instead, i cozy up to the pliant cotton of my couch,
the brocade of a pillow,
the fur of my yellow dog
and meditate on my luck, the good weather,
the mail, the novel i am reading which
eases me to sleep each night.

but then, this:
a swarm of crosses
deep in the heart of the desert -
plain, brutal epiphany
and i am made instantly
three thousand times smaller,
a fraction of a fraction,
a small, burning atom that cannot fathom
how to move, or which possible light
to swim toward.