Category Archives: DEATH

DOROTHY’S GIRL…


mom n' me

Dorothy’s path was the Sun

laid to meander the way to OZ

Furtive pauses and feral distractions

Life to death and a ruby resurrection

 

My feet are bare in the tap tap

Heel to heel silent laid to moon glow

Hugging the shadows preferring

The light of the Moon and the stars

 

I carry one of her gold bricks

For the love and luck of a mother’s gift

I chant it into rising to light my days

Till the moon calls me to another radiance

 

I’m already here in the magic land

There is no need to highlight the furtive and feral

In the false storytelling that breathe there

In truth I am a horse of a many different colours

 

And distraction is the way of this other fabricated land

Pleasure and sorrow handmaidens for experiment

And sometimes, sometimes, the pull takes to the forest

Off the Moon’s path from the Emerald City

 

If it were only poppies that took me to a deep sleep

If Only…till the heart awakens to the sky tears

And nighttime rises again in Full Moon splendor

And the Glory of heaven is illuminated before me.

 

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Filed under BE HERE NOW, BIRTH. LIFE. DEATH, DEATH, JOY, LOVE, MAGICAL THINKING

Radiant Reaping


DSCN1768

 

There need not be any grim in the reaping.

 

The close, the sweep, the gathering up, scattered

lays to the Earth the compost of what new

might become from the rich loam of what

has departed.

 

The thing is, is in the attachment to what

at last gave fruit, and needs in the end

of harvest to be laid back to Earth

was of skin and bone.

 

Heart to heart connection that no Autumn’s

coming Winter could foretell the loss caught

in the stream of tears carried away on a river

to another land.

Grief floods the shores of this land a salty sea

and in the one day not long from now

my ship will see you on the shore sunning

a radiant wave

 

A gestured call to share our Light again

reaping the radiance of our time together

again in how love holds the heart forever

in the always-has-been

 

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BACK TO THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE


Resting back in the Center of me.

Settling into my breath

Letting the wholeness fill me up

The Universe is unfolding

PATH TO GALAXY

~~~~~~

History makes her weaving ways into my present.

Suckles on my fears and weakness.

I have rocked this baby before.

I can’t drowned her, or smother her

I can’t shake the pictures out of her head

 

I remove her from her cradle of lies

I raise her to the Sun and Moon

in an ‘All Hail great Universe’

lay her on a bed of mossy green

under the bluest sky there ever is

and chant her stories of beauty and grace

of life that has no death and love that knows

no darkness in the forever after.

 

I let her suckle on the breath of love

In a world of kindness and joy

I sing her to sleep in the dream

scape of infinite possibilities of

great goodness made manifest.

I remind her that there is only Love

in the eternal Oneness of Spirit

 

She is her own spirit

on a human path

finding her moments

 

 

 

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Filed under BE HERE NOW, BIRTH. LIFE. DEATH, DEATH, EYES WIDE OPEN, full moon, LOVE, MAGICAL THINKING, PEACE, SPIRITUAL, SUMMER

THE FIRST DEATH


gerdoll

Corunna, MI.  1951.

Living just outside of town, surrounded by fields and big sky, an old barn, and the vast green in front of this old farm house that made me feel small, smaller than the 3 years of my life.

Worries seem wasted on the very young, dismissed as impossibility.

Me and my brother had the days to waste in that summer, when school let out and my yearning for a playmate was scorned by his bold 9 years of living.  Mother insisted he watch me, thwarting any opportunity for the mischief he was prone to find himself in.  It was deeper into the heat of summer, corn tall as my reach to heaven and Jere wanting to chase butterflies.  I wanted to chase them too.  More than anything in the whole world I wanted one.  With our little home made nets, I chased him out into the wide green of our yard, to edge of the corn, with the silk thread flicking in the wind, nearly ready for shucking. We chased the yellow swallowtails that flittered and fluttered everywhere in those days.  I watched the swoop of my brothers net capture one, I screamed with glee, barely able to contain myself, running to him to see his catch.  I followed him like a happy puppy into the house, as he gently carried is prize, begging him to let me hold it, begging him to take me back to the edge of the field so I could catch one too. He kept to his brooding guttural sounds, as I followed him to his room.  I had no idea I was his greatest annoyance, the bane of his boyhood and I wanted his butterfly.

I followed him into his room.  I remember pausing before entering because his room was taboo to all of us.  In that pause, I felt that at last he must really like me.  He must want me to play with him to let me into is inner sanctum. It was my first time.  It was a wild mess of clothes and sheets, things I had no interest in.  I could only focus my trembling on the net and the beautiful fluttering yellowtail.    He cleared a table off,  setting my butterfly on it.  It seemed to flutter madly, in fits and starts.  I didn’t understand.  With a cotton ball and something that was very stinky, my brother brought it to the net.  The butterfly stop struggling, stopped moving; I was confused. I wondered what magic happened to tame this beautiful being.  He gently opened the net and took the lifeless butterfly out. With one quick stab of a pin that magically appeared in his hand, he impaled my butterfly.  He stabbed it right through the back of it’s fragile little body.  It gave a the littlest shutter and moved no more.  He stuck it on a board that seemed to appear from no where with other butterflies and beetles,  and bugs, all pinned to it.  I stopped breathing.  I screamed. I screamed again, calling for my mother.  I sobbed beyond control, horrified.  I begged for him to bring it back to life.  He smiled a smile that gave me a shiver down my spine. I was scared.  I ran out his room, down the stairs to back of the house and into the kitchen.  “Mommy, Mommy.”  She scooped me up and pet my head, asking me what was wrong.   I was inconsolable; I was beside myself with pain. I hated my brother.  It was my first death.

 

 

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Filed under BE HERE NOW, BIRTH. LIFE. DEATH, DEATH, EYES WIDE OPEN

DIVE


2013-06-06 21.10.46-3

Make way into the loss

of what has been and gone

of what was and now isn’t.

Chapter’s written next

to the seams of life hemmed

to the short and long of

a story given

When In is the only way out

In the dive deep in this

sea of emotions that could

pull a drown down on a

single inhale.

Of stories told of a life

well lived and sometimes not

It’s the ‘not’ that captures

the interest of the observer.

For the griever, none of that

makes a difference.

The whole is the sum of

all those damn parts and

what was or what wasn’t

takes no account to the

chapter’s written of a life

lived and the love of that

life when loss takes it

all away.

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