Thursday, February 24, 2011

Love and death

Love and death

Lest
we
know

silence
comes
between us

so the only
hint
of assurance

is
in eyes
or skin

will I go
where
you go?
Gibbous moon in willowsAnd so it is.

Bless├Ęd Be.



Note: These words came fully formed when I awoke this morning, cuddling with Jim, from a strange and elaborate dream of Bob Dylan being courted by a young ruffian whose poetry had caught his attention. The melody of "Romance in Durango" was playing in my head.

The soul is such a mystery.

Bright Crow


2 comments:

Bright Crow said...

What felt very strange to me, even as these word rose to consciousness and I recorded them, was that first stanza:

Lest
we
know

That has been at the heart of my puzzlement since Mom died--actually, since before that, during her last few months: I DON'T know whether there is anything after death.

What I know is the connection I had with her, which still seems to be there, though it has moved from physical presence into memory.

Such a mystery!

Crow said...

Brightest Blessings from another crow. You blog is engaging, beautifully poetic and filled with humble observations. I will fly with along side with you, if you don't mind.

~crow