Last week we buried my
niece's thirty one year old husband.
Today, I watch the last of the leaves
clinging to the oak tree, one
sails off, gliding this way and that,
on the slow descent to the quiet,
frozen earth.
I've been avoiding this post,
wondering if I would share,
but knowing I wanted to -
to tell you why I haven't responded to all
your wonderful comments on the last post.
For I, too, am hanging on a tiny thread,
like the faded oak leaf,
seeing the dark,
still earth beneath my feet.
Spiral stone drawings.
A praying angel.
Dark trunks
and rhythmic branches.
A setting sun.
At the cemetery I sang the
ancient Celtic Deep Peace prayer.
I was trembling,
again the oak leaf,
holding by a thread
to a moment.
But it was
necessary
to sing
Deep Peace
of the Quiet Earth to you,
over and over and over.
I've been thinking,
that if trauma doesn't crack you up,
it cracks you open.
As I sit in heart-wrenching witness of
my beloved niece,
I feel how deeply I love,
and gratitude washes over me,
in finding this sacred gift,
and in feeling
the peace of the
quiet earth
holding me.
