Sunday, April 26, 2015

Dark Matter



“ … the pace of the universe’s expansion is ramping up, propelled by some unknown force referred to as ‘dark energy'." Globe and Mail


The cedar bares its roots,
vermillion against the dark
chestnuts and golds of the season:
autumn, the end of a cycle.

There is no flesh on these bones.
The anguish of living too much in the light
veiling that which hides beneath.

Until, that is, the choice
is no longer ours.

It comes to me, this vision, like bones of the past, a shadow of once was or yet to be seen. I am not dead: raw, broken; scarred, 
yes ...
but not dead. 
Alive.

There is beauty to this, if only it did not come with so much pain.


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Sunday, April 19, 2015

Notes on Love





The woman pushed her card into the interact machine. Her husband, grabbing their purchases, asked: Okay? She nodded and punched in her PIN. Half way through she looked up at me and said: He always does that. We shop together but he leaves as soon as I start paying. Bewilderment washed over her face. It was as if this was the first time she had ever given words to the experience. Her tone then took on a subtle sharpness: He doesn’t like to waste time.

I asked how long they had been married. Forty-five years, she said.


The woman paused as she waited for her transaction to complete. By the time I get to the car he will have it loaded; we are ready to go. Her expression changed again, softening. It is efficient, she said, and walked out the door.

 *  * * 

I know of a woman whose partner is in care—his mind no longer his own. He has found a female companion there, my friend says, they spend a lot of time together… he’s happy. Some think I should be upset, but we have had a long and for the most part happy marriage.  Those memories will be with me forever.


*  * * 

The wedding ring on her finger was beautiful, I told her so. Thank you, she said. We've been married 17 years but last month we renewed our vows. It was a total surprise... I thought we were just meeting friends in town for a fancy dinner. She paused. I was diagnosed with MS last year. It's been a hard year for him.


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Sunday, April 12, 2015

Roots




The ground swirls around my feet—
fibrous tendrils twist and embrace, overlap, then veer off
heading down
deep below.
They know something, these roots,
feet of the forest, limbs of the world.

Why don't I know?


I stand in solitude
alone but not really. The earth vibrates
melodies that dance through my soul. I strain to hear more, to learn, 
to understand.

My humanness, the desire to know, fails me.

I allow my own roots, my sanctuary, to travel down to stretch beyond what I know here, now, on this surface of Clay and Rock, Leaf and Bark ... and Bone, there is Bone here and Feather, Fur, remnants of Blood. Life has lived and died here, ceased breathing, dissolved, become one.

It holds me up, this life that once was.
It is my foundation, my strength.
I sink down into its depths.
I feel spirit move and breathe within.



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