Editor: My dear friend, sister and writing buddy, Barbara Jackson, penned two new poems recently. Barb’s writing has appeared in these pages a few times over the years. She is a fine, intuitive and magical writer. She sees behind, below and beyond. Of these two, Barb says, “…part of being alive is being tuned into the seasons -including the challenge of this winter’s darkness that weighs heavily…” As we both lose family and friends, these are some of the topics we share.
WHEN DEATH BECOMES HOLY
11/20/17
He’s sleeping more now, she says
As she watches her loved one slip away with each breath
The time line extended by chemo, radiation, and experimental procedures
What I used to believe was the work of the modern devil
Now I recognize as something that
Gives us all time to adjust
To the passing of our dear ones
To come to the peace
Of letting the world we knew together
Shift ever so slightly
At dusk our wings fold into the darkness of winter
Song and candle
Frankincense and mandarin,
Sandalwood, patchouli, and Ylang ylang
Deep memories
Floating
In the place beyond words
BREATH
11/21/17
Be
Art
Breath
Be
Wind
Sliding
Through
Branches
Breath
Be
Inhaling
Sweetness
Breath
Be
Exhaling
Memory
Breath
Be
Spirit
Rich Compton says
“At dusk our wings fold into the darkness of winter”
Beautiful.