OF YOU, IN MEMORY

Of you, in memory, I dream

summer days that did not end -

the coo of doves at daybreak,

blue sky over your shoulder,

your dark eyes looking down; a smile,

my heart open wide with wonder.

My summer of love

had arrived.

Of you, in memory, I sing

the song of a distant heart

that dared not open,

from whom I unwillingly

but inevitably had to part.

ploughing the garden under,

along with all my hopes

Of you, in memory, I recall

the coo of doves at daybreak,

how you opened

the door of the cage

and out she (we) flew.

No answer is an answer

to the questions of the heart

Of you, in memory, I sing

every time I hear

the dove’s soft coo.

we ploughed the garden under,

along with all my hopes

Of you, in memory, I wonder,

sifting through all

I have come to know today:

what would have happened

had I been brave enough

and whole enough

to stay?

But no answer was your answer

to the questions of my heart

and so unwillingly but inevitably,

the time came for us to part.

My attempt at a fugue. A fugue, like the fugue in music, repeats a refrain or a theme throughout the poem.

Only one year, and one summer of love this lifetime. Too short. But fourteen years of love with Pup more than made up for it.

for Mary's prompt at What's Going On? - Memory

THIRTEEN YEARS GONE

I feel it coming, this poem I will birth
on the thirteenth year of your passing

from this earth.

So close to tears, I realized, of course, it is you.

Just how much and how long I would miss you,

back then I never knew.

Like a burrowing owl, you have lodged in my heart,

like a prickle-burr that hurts,

from which I do not want to part.

You live there, night and day,

in a corner labeled Grief.

From the missing and your-being-gone

there is no relief.

Ghost voices whispering on the wind,

and wolf howls in my dreams,

you look right into my sad heart;

your wolf-eyes gleam.

The barn owl says to light the lamp

on the windowsill for you.

But how can you find me in this place

that was never home to you?

I'm homeless in the universe, alone, without you

and I fear you're out there somewhere,

feeling homeless too.

Lead me back, wolf-spirit,

to the land we loved together.

I will walk there again

as we did in any weather.

When I can hear the rhythm of

the turning of the tides,

my spirit may still find a home

once more, where peace abides.

Maybe your ghost shadow

will accompany the hours

as I walk forever beaches that,

for a time, were ours.

*** *** ***

I went to bed and slept, and then they came:

four beautiful, snowy white wolves

who already knew my name.

The first one came close,

oh! the beauty of her face!

pushed a friendly nose towards me,

as I stood still, accepting,

but respectful of her space.

We were at the beach, the wolves and I.

A visitation from the spirit-world

of the not-alive,

and from deep in my spirit,

which needs both wolves and ocean waves

to thrive,

because it has never been enough

simply to survive.

The barn owl called sleepily

in the early light to wake me.

Four white wolves live within me now,

never to forsake me.

And you?

big, black, laughing, hilarious

creature of the dawn?

You live in my heart

forever, now.

You are never

fully gone.

for my open link at What's Going On?

Amazing to think it has been thirteen years. He lived by my side for fourteen wild and wonderful years. I miss him always. I wrote this poem on one of the early anniversaries of his death. Then, I was living in Port Alberni, where he and I mourned our lost beaches together. I am back here, now, which has been a great blessing. I hope his spirit lopes along the shore with me on my beach walks.

I have many favourites among my poems, but this one goes the deepest.

A Dubious Commentary on Impossible Politics

In the darkest hour before dawn,

 a roving reporter from the underworld

recites a satisfactory report

to the swarthy warlord:

Earthlings are behaving as anticipated.

(They chuckle in amusement.)

Like lemmings, they quietly approach the cliff,

seeming not to understand

a watery grave lies beneath.

Where are the light-bearers
with far-sighted vision,
in these troubled times?

The capricious unreliable narrator,
peering down from Planet Earth in alarm,
interjects:

Let's send in some help!

A small brown warm-hearted bird appears,
off to the side,

holding a sign under her wing:

Wait! Stop!

There is Another Way.

for Shay at the Word List - where the words took me on this nerve-wracking day before the election. 

DONA NOBIS PACEM: Holding the Light

 

source

WHEN FEELING HOMELESS,
READ THIS POEM

Fellow Traveler,

do you feel like you've been

searching for home

for a lifetime?

Are you out there in the dark

storm-tossed and weary,

buffeted by winds,

with still such a long way to go?

Come home.

I'll put a candle on the sill

to light your way.

There's a fire in the hearth

and a soup-pot slow-simmering.

Comfort and kind words await.

You need only arrive.

Watch for the light
to guide your steps.
Hold it in your heart,
against the darkness 
and unkind words swirling
around our heads.

Come home, weary traveler,

to the only home

there ever is ~

home to yourself

once again,
filled with your light
and your peace.
Together, let's light up
this tired old world
and make it shine.

for Mimi at Blogblast for Peace 2024: Holding the Light. 

We need all the light we can get, my friends, against dark forces that would divide us. But millions of bright lights can create a lot of shine.  Canada is standing with its neighbour, praying that the light will outshine the darkness.

Thanks, Mimi, for years of these blogblasts for peace. Maybe this is the year?