If you ever lose heart and the earth seems as distant as stars fading into the noise of your busy mind, know this. That a tiny island exists in the blue hands of the ocean. That a tree grows upright into the salted clouds. That two eagles love each other enough to spend their lives greeting the morning sun together. That two eaglets stand in their nest, gazing at the heavens. Looking down to the forever ground. They eat and sleep and flap their wings. And one day in July, one by one, they will jump into the air. They will know the difference between existing and what is beyond. They will hold onto nothing. The hurricane will come, courage catching their pinions on fire, as they mount the wind, climbing ladders into realms of the invisible.

--T.L. Stokes

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

The Soul in Yellowstone

Tenderly, I look over the face
like a map of the earth. The older one,
who once looked down into my face
as I looked up, grinning.
His little one.

How the years pass like a river.
All the notes of our voices float up as light
and vanish.

You and I sit in our own deep silences.
I hear soulful ringing of the steeple bell,
from somewhere deep in your belly.
I feel pressed to say something,
polite talk of yesterday, however
I cherish the moment.

Your soul may leave us here

A beautiful agate slipping from the fingers
of mother's hand,
caught in the last of the last sun,

or a few old bones
with their well-loved wrinkled fabric.

I sit with you in silence. Look out the window.
It rains a little. We change the subject,
travel to Yellowstone in the old blue Chevy,
smile at each other in contentment,

watch the wolves begin to weave out
across the meadow.

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