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Origami Mind

NASA scientists folded
a shield as wide as a spaceship
into origami transformers
and packed them into the capsule.
When released in space, it unfolded
like a cloud, a parasol against the sizzle
of a sure-death sun.

I too should make my mind,
flat and still, like paper.
Fold right and left corners
in clean symmetrical angles.
Reverse sides and repeat folds.
Invert creases and pinch angles to tent.
Apply ancient secrets to compress
formidable planes into new dimensions.
Press in smoothness and sharpness
to a form resembling a bird,
an umbrella,
or a bright sunflower perhaps.

Let it slip through an opening
one drop of light at a time.
Let it enter a new domain
where it transforms
to future needs.

I envy that thought I saw go
while the me that stayed
was piqued to know
how forms transmute and shapes flow
—and ponder that we might, after all,
have what it takes
to save ourselves.

—
Mariko Navin is a lifelong scribbler who began studying and writing poetry after retirement. She calls the Pacific Northwest her home and draws from her Japanese and Okinawan roots. Her pieces have appeared in Method Writers Speak, the anthology of the LA Poets and Writers Collective.

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