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

embracing
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.

Spirit of the Teacher



In the glorious day of the eagle
while the watchers danced and prayed
I asked the teacher:

Do you remember
when we talked about grief,
Norfolk happened the next day

and then we talked about balance
and the white egg cracked so its voice
could come to us,

and then we talked about Hope,
and honesty and patience,
and you taught us another thing
about the position of life

and possibility of death,
and you held onto us,
teaching in silence and words
typed into the white spaciousness
of the universe.

And you waited with us
as we played Native chants
and Enya
and prayed.

Then in the silence of the great mystery
a little life was spilled
into our eyes.

Alexandra Morton--new abundant vision
of all people--hatchling,
and now AJL you honor us
and vigilant more than most,
you count the small things
noting that all miracles

can be held and charted and
marveled over.

Above all, that these finer things
from a spirit who must love us
more than we will ever understand,
are gifts

to be shared. Teacher
in the treetops. Pointing a finger
into the darkness

for the watchers
in the woods.






for AJL