Posted in heaven

What dreams may come?

“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come”
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

This is the location where the jogger went past us…

It was a day like any other, we decided to have our daily walk in the late afternoon.
Our little dog Zebby barked loudly in excitement, as we headed up the hill.
A young man with dark curly hair and harlequin *pants was coming down, we greeted him.
His attire seemed unusual and yet he was quite mesmerizing, I thought nothing of it at the time…

As we carried on walking towards the mouth of the lagoon, a jogger whom we were not acquainted with, came running past, he waived cordially to us. I remember thinking how lithe he was for a man of his age. He was in his sixties, I imagined.

As we approached the car park there was an animated crowd in the distance and we wondered what was going on. It seemed that the jogger had collapsed. He was surrounded by a small group of people trying to help him. They called us over, they were about to put him in the car and take him to the hospital, and they needed our help because he was literally a dead weight. I assumed at the time that these people knew this man.

As I stared at him in horror, I observed how he had begun to turn a bluish-grey and his eyelids flickered. It was as if he had relinquished all the strength in his body and just flopped down onto the dusty earth. I had a feeling at the time that this man was taking his last breath. It was quite disturbing to me because I wasn’t with my son Stevie when he died. I have seen enough episodes of CSI to imagine what the final stages of death look like, but I don’t dwell on that image.

It had probably been just another day for our jogger, and then the unexpected happened.
The amazing thing about it all was that the young man in the harlequin pants who was going down the hill in the opposite direction just a few minutes earlier was there in the crowd. We hadn’t seen him run past us. He had to have sprinted a good 1,5km to have been there to catch the jogger in his final moments. In the commotion, I hadn’t thought about it but his harlequin pants seemed to have made him stand-out in this small gathering of people.

After they sped off in the car, we wandered home in a state of shock, it all happened so quickly.
The investigator in me couldn’t leave it alone, I wanted to know what happened to our jogger. The next day I looked up on our local’s Facebook page and found that he had in fact died. It turned out that our jogger was with a group of people who hadn’t known him.
The question remained, who was the young man in harlequin pants?

I searched around and found some of the other local Samaritans called to duty by something greater than themselves, but not him.

I still look for him on our walks, I still ponder that event. It seems to me that a plan had been put in place to make sure our jogger friend was not alone at his moment of death. Oft times we have been to the very same location at the mouth and there has not been a soul present…

The mystical side of me likes to think that the young man in harlequin pants was an Angel, because he definitely had a kind of beautiful charismatic quality about him.
I just know one thing; he was somewhat unusual for a man of his age. Perhaps he had momentary lost direction when we first saw him, or was he the sign I needed to remind me that love is all around, every minute of every day?

It led me to the conclusion that we are never alone when we die, despite appearances. We are surrounded by multitudes of light beings…

*pants=trousers


Posted in Magical

A resonance of dazzling light!

“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

In the colors
of breathtaking sights
and the resonance
of dazzling light,
all around me
everywhere,
in luminescent atmospheres
pressed into the fabric
of my clothes,
interwoven,
divinely composed,
beneath my skin
deep in my heart
an awareness that we’re never apart..

Posted in seasons

Mellow ambiance…

“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”
― Khalil Gibran, The Prophet

There’s a resplendent elegance
about falling leaves,
a mellow ambiance
when conditions ease.

a crunch on the pavement breaks my stride
and flickering of particles gently collide…

the sun dips low
in water-colored groves,
I feel the fluency of light exposed.

the vacant stare
of these troubled times,
is being assuaged by natures signs…

Posted in a remembrance

Happy Mother’s day…

“He makes me to lie down in green pastures: he leads me beside the still waters”
Psalm 23

They say only the good die young, but I don’t believe that, I have known some pretty awesome 89 year olds. I think it’s easier to die young because we don’t have to face the aches and pains of old age, and maybe even the loss of our facilities. My Dad used to say that three score years and 10 was good enough for him, he made it to 75.

I remember when the nurse called us to the hospital to say that my Mother was dying, she said my Mother had opened her eyes for a bit and she had the most beautiful eyes, the color of the sky on a cloudless day. I stood at her bedside and begged her to stay, I wanted her to see my babies grow up.

At first she seemed agitated as if she was trying to hold on for us. We asked a priest in the hospital to pray for her and I saw something change in her countenance. She became peaceful, as though there was an angelic presence in the room.
It seemed that something irresistibly beautiful was calling her back to the light. She was only 61.
My Mother had known mental anguish, she had understood abandonment, and I think in that moment she let go of all her suffering, and went home. I think a table had been prepared for her, and she was ready to sup with the Divine.
She was and still is one of the bright lights of my life, and whenever I look up at the pale blue skies I think of her…

Posted in daydreaming

A resonance of grace…

‘When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.”
― Rumi

There’s a chant over the waters,
a resonance of grace,
an eloquent knowing
a divine embrace…

The trees are swaying to the movement of wind,
fluid elaborations
of light that’s dimmed.

and the rain falls softly from sunless skies,
spoonbills dance,
their mood vocalized.

fields rejoice in squelching sounds,
and a festival of color revitalizes the ground!

Posted in Breathing under water

Morning…

“We live between the act of awakening and the act of surrender. Each morning, we awaken to the light and the invitation to a new day in the world of time; each night, we surrender to the dark to be taken to play in the world of dreams where time is no more.”
― John O’Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

I’ve dug deep trenches of sadness,
buried myself way down,
and as the quagmire thickened
I almost drowned…

a hostage to my sorrow
no movement on my lips,
in the deadliest of moments, I was miserably transfixed!

and the darkness
enclosed me
in a mausoleum of tears,
I begged to never waken
just to quietly disappear.

and in patience
I was gathered,
my senses cleared in the light,
seeing love was all around me
kindness gave me back my sight!

the years have gently softened me,
though the wound still bleeds,
carved out
is a remembrance,
in rivulets on my cheeks.

Sometimes I still wake
in sadness,
allowing light to enter in,
praying for strength
in each heartbeat,
grace brushes lightly on my skin…

And love always finds me, bringing me back to life
in the blessings of each morning,
that are fluently divine….

Photo by Nicholas Leonard Art

Posted in a remembrance

Watching the stars impress the night…

Mother’s day is hard for me and I kind of go into a bit of a decline just before the day.
My son’s friend invited us over to his house. It looks over Lake Pleasant
and we ate Bass and reminisced about my son.
These are the things that get me through the hard times!

In the stillness
at the end of day
I brightened with
each golden ray,
and basked in
the fading light,
and watched the stars
impress the night!
The dark stirred me
into feelings
of bliss,
bringing rhythm
to the tenderness
of being clothed
in forgiving breath,
from deep wounds
of sudden death.
I revisited light
and thankfulness,
in hideaways
of thoughts
confessed…

Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!

Finding my way out…

Day 30. This prompt challenges you to write a poem in the form of a series of directions describing how a person should get to a particular place. 

This quote is very meaningful to me because it happened. I found people who have lead me out of the forest of sorrow..

“Deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location, a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes this will bring hope”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

I inhabited a place
where darkness thickens
the density of form
when grief was stricken.
and I rode the waves of unwanted fear,
covered the ground
with constant tears…

And you lead me out of the catacombs,
showed me the wonders
I had always known,
guided by the radiance
of unseen paths,
I became familiar with life’s contrasts!

the compass of faith was shown to me,
co-ordinates of grace
where I wanted to be,

and I lay in the foliage
looking up
at the skies,
open to the magic behind my eyes.
drinking in the light of honeyed-rays
I allowed sorrow
to slowly
dissipate…

and I gratefully returned
to Divine love,
to the miracle of hope
and the stirring of
a heart that is healed by kind intent,
to the motion of joy
that I re-invent…