Zero Meridian
by Deborah Warren
It’s here beneath us, as invisible
as zero; but although there’s nothing there,
although it’s an abstraction – purely notion –
nonetheless, they drew a line in air
and based the world on it.
And you could say
in the grand scheme of things it matters more
than my October maples, or the ocean
throwing the waves like sapphires at the shore.
or even your mouth and eyes —
and I’d reply:
Maybe you’re right. To take the measure of
anything that matters, we rely
on nothing – things like longitude and love.
Your rosary post has me thinking of my Grandmother, for a whole host of reasons. This poem made me think of something she once said. She was born here, but her parents’ families immigrated from Poland back in 1895-1905. She was a simple woman, but she had a “way” about her that was quite striking. She never flew in a plane, rode in a boat, used an elevator, etc. She had never seen the ocean in person until she was in her late 80s. Later, she made the comment, “If I get to heaven, I hope God will let me keep one grain of sand in my pocket so I will remember this beautiful place.” She worried that heaven might be the kind of place where memories of time spent on Earth would be fleeting. To her, a place where she might not be reunited with my Grandfather, with their memories intact, wasn’t her idea of a proper heaven.