Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Archive for the ‘grief’ Category

Respite

Be quiet, Muse.

Be silent as the night clouds

curtaining the moon,

not even a single sound

disturbing the dark shade

drawn across that glowing face

hiding her distant compassion,

the immortal sadness

she feels yet is unable to extend

any more than I can reach her

by crying.

Keep your counsel.

Tonight is not the time

to stir my mind and hands

and ride me like a shadowed mare

until I shiver and froth

drained and absent of light

out in the open

no succor

no haven

no drumming breast

to cradle my dizzy head to rest.

Please hush.

The hands of the clock

have come together,

a prayer at midnight.

I embrace the emptiness

like a lover

with relief and drained wonder,

waiting for the winter’s breath

to slide the clouds aside

and reveal a white so bright

it steals my pain.

(c) RCGA 2019

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White Wing Owl

How can it be,
brother of dragons
and companion of owls,
that here I am
a noisy, dark-plumed bird
still spinning in the sky
around your memory?
I recall your amber eye,
the tilt of your head
against the blue,
the smell of your sweat
in the sea breeze
intoxicatingly familiar.
We shared the wind.
There were no excuses
for our fealty
as it happened such a way
we did not notice it,
until the hope surrounded us,
and we belonged;
the swirl of yin and yang,
a little of you in me,
a bit of me in you,
around in the blinking sunlight
until you disappeared.

(c) RCGA 2018Snowy Owl and Crow

For Mani: 5-30-49 — 5-1-08

Postcard from the Azores

Another country heard from:

hydrangeas from a distant shore.

The island of my husband’s family

cheerfully inscribed with a message

from a mutual friend

tugs at my nostalgia for his long fingers

holding up the camera,

his drawl coaxing me to smile for him,

then turning to a flower, closing in;

both subject to his fascination

enclosed in pixels just as much as mind,

his warm regard upon my face

a swathe of summer sun

and the scent of long-faded blossoms

somehow brushes across me

whispering Azores.

(c) RCGA 2017

20171206124721_00001

 

 

Poets, Prophets, & Healers

The poets, the prophets, the healers.
So many have left us, it’s time to arise;
to dance in the streets
and to pull back the curtains,
to follow the dove where she flies.
If our hearts are broken, then love is the mending,
the way out of darkness is light…
come out from the shadows, and bring all your candles,
we’ve got work to do on this night.
Fling wide your eyes, and your minds, and your lips,
be the change, be the peace, be the goals…
for everyone’s longing for poets and prophets
and healers to speak to their souls.
(c) 2016 RCGAbigstock-candle-in-a-hand-19600874

Listen

Girl-Looking-At-The-Sun-At-SunriseLet me tell you something, people
Let me tell you something

You may think that it is trite to say
that you reap what you sow
because in this life you don’t always
get what you deserve
for good or ill…
yes, that is true

such a truth

Yet, let me tell you something
something important

Every time you send out hate
every time you act on that hate
with your mind, with your words
with your hands

you destroy a little piece of the world
and your soul

Someday there will be nothing left
of the former
someday you will be dust
and your soul

your soul will mourn

because you didn’t choose love
because you chose the straight path
that was easy and indulgent
because you turned your back on forgiveness
and wallowed in your righteousness
poisoning the well
we all have to drink from

Let me tell you something, people
Let me tell you something

It is not easy to sow kindness in this world
but it is the only harvest
you should want to reap and share
so plant it
plant it everywhere
some of it will grow
some of it will

RCGA 2016

Sketchy

I started sketching you
but couldn’t finish

as if your spirit
is still too restless to hold still
and I can’t capture it
with the scraping of graphite

can’t trap it
on the flat plane of Bristol
while it convolutes
with some stuttering spark
threatening
pencil wood and paper
alike

You always were
like the wind
no matter how solid you seemed
now you are in it

and I can’t draw you
down

Drawing-Hands-Escher

(c) RCGA 2016

Μή μου ἅπτου (Noli me tangere)

Early in the morning
on the day after the sabbath
I went to where you lay
in a garden sepulchre
cold wet with dew

but you weren’t there
the tomb was open
the scent of myrrh still sharp
wafting from the stones

I couldn’t comprehend
why after all that had happened
this simple thing
all that I asked for
to be by your side a while
before that long forever
of separation

was taken away

why you were taken away
or by whom

Perhaps I had jumped to conclusions
maybe my faith was, after all
too small
but I had seen you gasp your last
release your spirit
lie pale in your mother’s arms

I had stood by your body
and bathed the blood and dirt away
anointed you a final time
as I’d poured the spikenard on your feet
brushed your hair back from your still features
wrapped you in linen

Those men, so bright
asked me why I was weeping
asked me who I was seeking
asked me…
didn’t they understand?

It wasn’t until I saw you
and even then, I didn’t dare believe

No, I couldn’t grasp the wholeness of it
until you said my name

You were as bright as they were

and I couldn’t stop crying

Teacher
Teacher

In every conversation we ever had
you reminded me this would happen
and yet somewhere in my heart
I didn’t know the truth of it
that your death
was not the end of the story

and I shouldn’t cling to you
in that way

Instead you sent me off
from the city of the dead
to the places of the living
to tell the others
the prophecies
were fulfilled in full

I am just a woman
who has followed you
basking in your wisdom

I am just a woman
who has been blessed beyond measure
to testify that one morning
I went to visit you in your grave
and instead saw you risen from it
accompanied
by angels

alonso-cano-noli-me-tangere

Alonso Cano: Noli me tangere

3-27-16 (Easter) (c) RCGA

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