Howl!

In the fullness of death

life stills: a silent threnody

of loss, a prayer

to sorrow.

Lie within

this echo of grief,

seek solace in the quiet;

it holds no cure

but nurtures our soul

and honours the past

then, when the moon comes full

and spirit is aroused

open your heart to the mystery and

howl. Howl!

Howl with the primeval blood that sings of the yellow cedar, 1000 years old, and the ancient stones that gave birth to each note. Howl to the smoldering magna that shift the roots of mountains making them rise, yes, rise through layers of history embedding us to this earth and then howl as you emerge to the fern unfurling in spring and the butterfly shedding her cocoon to the nascent salmon berry on her bed of new growth. Howl from the deepest part of your soul to the gnats swarming over fecund land so recently recast from the winter snows and howl to the sparrow who impatiently awaits. Then reach high into the sky and howl

to the stars shining bright

pushing beyond the veils of

doubt and

howl, howl!

to the beauty of all there is

and know

you are not alone.

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