Thursday, October 06, 2005

Dawning Hours

In the early hours of the day's caress,
I reflect on other wakes,
and shakes and makes,
of a soul's touch
on living
more than

Two thoughts bubble up from mem'ry's
claim on celebration midst lament ...

this first is the best I can remember (recreate)
from an offering of a stranger at my grandmother's wake --

Breath into Spring

The breath of spring is strumming sadly now--
Soft touching chords lament their heavy loss.
Croon lullabies through rustling, sagging bush,
And gently sway the lilies toward a cross.
The breath of spring is strumming fiercely now--
Harsh chilling blast could nip the tender buds,
And pin the snow-white lily to a tree,
And pierce his skin and out would flow the blood.
The breath of spring is humming sweetly now--
For blighted lilies carried on its wings
Are planted in the blood soaked earth where they
Commune with him who made the winds to sing.

this is from musing following another wake ...


Behense the whisper-drift of angels
as they caress in flight the Currents,
birthed in humanity's entwining,
breathed into Life by the Goddess.
Drawn to lands of everbeen and nowbe,
their shimmering wake evokes dreams of wings,
and the cavetation of joylove
produces notes for the Spirit Song.
All this makes my soul leap in tune.

aye, and if we love any person greatly, we must love everyone a little bit;

and as we celebrate with thee, we celebrate our own joy of life.



At 2:12 PM, Blogger Gail Kavanagh said...

This is a song to lift the spirit heavenwards.


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