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

Monday, April 29, 2013

Rowboat in the Black Sea

Last night in the black sea
on a rowboat slowly heading
for the Dreamtime

I dreamed my father and I
walked together

until we reached the end of a line
of people
saying goodbye

and sitting on a couch
to our left

sat my mother.

I floated like you do in the land of dreams
opening my arms

with everything that is me

knowing father
still stood quietly
by my side.

What did the heart say in the moment
facing his wife the beloved departed?

Such questions
you need not ask nor wonder

for upon waking
answers are never words.

For my father, brother and sisters,
she looked good.

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