Dear friends many of you have moved from surroundings I knew and loved with you but my memories of us have not defused like clouds hanging dark but always new.
In old age it is the memories that flow and make you present with hearts beating wildly times we drank beer decrying the status quo and when we celebrated little things like being Friday.
We celebrated a lot when life was so full alive with discoveries, conflicts, and diversity when our desires and thoughts pushed and pulled and we felt pain and hope in multiplicity.
But now so many of you are gone to places unknown: some to you and some to me and together we won’t know joys of new dawns we will deal with things like that **** aching knee.
For some of you your children are grown for me poetry, love, and God enliven and wake me up but nobody can take from me the bonds I have known bonds cast with you in sharing, caring, and lifting life’s cup.
In long moments in a waiting room trying to ignore the next challenge of my body I’ll be grateful. I’ll not dwell in spaces of doom I’ll remember those times of being good or naughty.
I’ll visit the rooms and the halls where we gathered to learn and teach in those precious moments of my recall I’ll gather you together for the universes we’ve yet to reach.
This morning I came across a description of the “Epistolary poem” form and it gave me an idea to express to something I’ve been thinking about recently. The title reveals the addressees of the poem, but hopefully others will find something helpful or meaningful in it.