Friday, July 9, 2010

GIFTS


December 2005

My daughter's heartache
dimmed the lights
this Christmas.
Her raw grief swamped our craft
and we both went down.
But the spirit is meant to try;
Hope lifts our feathers.
We point our noses forward:
one by one,
the healing days
go by.

So yesterday
the sun came out;
the fog had lifted,
trees poking through the mist
the way I like.
Coffee was on,
John Lennon and I were singing
War Is Over and Give Peace A Chance.
Soup was bubbling on the stove,
the incense wafting.
Music is joy
and my feet
still can dance.

Today I sat by someone's dying mother.
How hard she labored
to take just one breath,
then another.
My Christmas gift to God
I had thought that this would be.
It wound up being
God's Christmas gift
to me.
I walked out - on my own two legs -
past all the wheelchairs,
past those in bed,
into the falling dark.
Breathing in the fresh air
was a miracle,
the line between
my life and theirs
so stark.

Tonight at the end of the road
I watched a heron
lift elegantly
against the winter sky.
My daughter's voice is growing
ever stronger;
her spirit
is remembering
how to fly.

My inbox was full of love
as this welcome new year starts-
my life's true wealth
is friends with golden hearts.

Even in pain and grief
-who doesnt have it?-
I remember to be grateful
every day.
I am in love with nature,
and she is all around,
so affluence abounds.
Circling, endlessly circling
through this stuff,
I make my way,
and I keep on coming home
to what's
Enough.

What we're looking for
is already inside us.
What we focus on
within our life
expands.
What we do when things get tough:
haul wood and carry water,
use our hands
to give to someone who has
less than us,
sit with the dying,
remember the living,
write a poem,
assauge the loneliness
of the human heart
by giving.

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