Poetry - All

You were still warm with whisps of silver and gray on your parchment skin, eyes shut tight against the world, and lower lip hanging down. I kept waiting for an intake of breath one more breath just one more for the road. I felt the heat at the top of your head as though your mind was still busy with thoughts. Ahhh, but you are free now, free of this old skeleton fetally curled into itself. You are free to dance again.

Love is the fibrous intermingling of our lives and beings. All else falls away into the forgotten gravestones of wounding ill-spoken words and awful permeating silences now buried under the rain-softened leaves of fallen time. Now there is only the clarity of love - notes played true which run like a plumbline through our beings. It nourishes in silence and absence, it enlightens in the midst of all the darknesses we encounter.