Waking

A dear friend has passed.  His wife said he saw vivid life in his last hours… beings seen only to him, coming from the corners.  He called to them by name.  I imagine his voice soft, bringing forward all that had been.  Making way.

Crossing my arms around my body, I hold emptiness.  Emptying my life of unhealthy fear, I fill it with hope.  This is my foundation.

I will make this my mantra, until I believe it.  So far to travel, to true acceptance and open-mindedness… I am up for the trip.

For Piet, January 2013

.

Waking

.

In the shine of sun

a bird hears

what is under the earth

around the pulsing

anchors of trees

.

Upon vines

a spirit is grafted

in wishes of calm

unending growth

.

Through light and shadow

lifted

as if waking from a dream

certain you can fly

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3 thoughts on “Waking

  1. There’s a very quiet power to this poem . . . and you really do capture with such poignancy the interplay of light and shadow, and what emerges within us when something/someone is gone.

    Like

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