31 march, 2013
of the deep depths of science.
of the morning bird that calls out to her mate in the evening, shrill and beautiful against the dusky sky.
I believe that Death comes uncalled for and unmade for.
robbing beds of lovers and cribs rocked in grief.
i believe in the unrelenting poetry of life.
of promises never filled forgiven,
of all thing made anew when under clean sheets hung to dry out on the line in the midsummer sun.
of eyes closed, lashes filled with the motes of memory, drawing deep in sleep.
i believe in boken hearts & Newton & Einstein & Darwin & Louis Leaky,
in the darkest depth of black holes and in an earth not formed yesterday,
but in nanoseconds of a moment billions upon billions of years ago
in a collapsing clap off the shoulders of God.
I believe in the unrelenting poetry of life.
9 november, 2012
After these days here are done, and we go back home, and the hours stretch into weeks, and the weeks stretch into years, I know my Boys will remember their grandmother's funeral; not as a day of grief, but as a day of remembrance: Precious uncles and beloved aunts, the dearests' & dearests' of cousins. A crowded chapel, all squeezed in tight, dapper ties and jackets. & Snow! Snow falling on the church courtyard, scattering flakes across their faces. Wonderous icy snow balls, sliding down lawns and the chilly night air. Shoveling the walk as Joy, not as Chore. And hot cocoa instead of dinner, and a campfire, so novel, for it is inside the house, not out. Staying up late and watching movies....& with this passing of time, I know that Their Memories will become My Memories and I will love them all the more for it.