Grief on wings of the White Dove
With an olive branch hanging
From her beak.
  
My heart expanding
Yearning  to burst open
Into expressions of mourning.
Grief expanding into mourning  
I lost you!

My inner feelings crying
Thoughts, punctuated with deep sighs.  
Tears, watering the branches
Lying at my feet.

Crying, outside of my self
Longing for you...
So, many tones of agony...

Pouring out of my heart.
The songs  of longing
Music welling up
From deep behind my eyes.
Writing, sharing, feeling, expressing
Art of the heart seeking release

Each anniversary
The day you died
The month afterwards
Each month…2, 3, 4, 5...
Your birthday
The first day, of the sixth month.

The usual Christmas tree celebration
Did not happen.
No popcorn stringer
With gummi bears and gum drops
No snow man soup
No gingerbread house …
My heart so heavy
My limbs were numb.

Oh, I miss your quite
Knowing humor
The gilt in your eyes
One year…two years
7 months & 19 days ago
Around 10 pm….
I still feel the sting
Of  hearing the news
Brother, speaking, describing
I not wanting to hear, " ... he's gone ..."

It just did not feel real!
No, it can't be…
NO! Not STEPHAN!!!!!!!!!!
Lord, NO! Please no!!
I picked up my pen
To scribble the notes…
I needed to see!
I needed to read!!!
I needed to write it all!!!

And when I reread it
I cried! …Sobbing…..
It became the way
To express my grief
My sorrow
My pain.

As the pain poured out
Out come what was left unresolved.
It helped to quiet my soul.
I could feel you
As I asked questions
And the answers
Poured and poured outward.

Pain flowed out
As understanding
Entering my heart.

Flying this path
Healing in my way
At the helm of my love
I reach toward you

Issue by issue
Understanding by understanding
Through rain, sleet and storm
My heart, calming
Though, a little unsteady...
Shaking
Hold on to me
I am a little unsteady.

Through their Misconceptions
I affirmed that  - grief is okay
Yet when mourning
Some still say,  "Just get on with it."

No orderly stages
Neither up or nor down?  
It Spirals round
In and through.
With the hand of Understanding
My heart, now stands in awe..
So this is compassion!

As the  key to the lock
Opens the door
The Dove flying freely
A fledgling peeks above the edge
Of the mud
Of straw and twigs.

I thought he few away
My spirit left mourning
The light dimmed
On this plane

Yet he lives!
My son lives!
His Light Shining
As the Inner Compass
Points the Way.

Now forever
Heart to heart
I embrace my son

It is much deeper now
All the unresolved floating up
As White Feathers Rising
Toward the Sun.
Toward the  Light

And the White Dove her sang of joy
Honoring the Red Rose
Of our Serenity.

we "know" about newborns that they are not able to express any emotions except crying

well...





look into a newborn's face for at least half an hour

recognize a very deepness in its glance: a pool of emotions

discover the souls of ancient beings

see them swimming through the newborn's eyes

find ****** expressions of ancestors in the cheeks of the newborn

feel creatures who were once alive..

Noble heritage they cannot erase
Ancestor’s plight laid bare for all to see
Tribal identity etched in each face
Invincible spirit their pedigree
Various attempts meant to “civilize”
Expanding demands for more and more land

Pogroms by forced removal terrorized
Extreme suffering they had to withstand.
Their unshakable resolve saw them through
Providing strength to mitigate their fears
Lives lost, yes, their memory they’ll renew
Endless remembrance of the Trail of Tears.

My ancestors were a funny lot,
Christians, or Atheists who lost the plot,
I meandered into a world of Faith,
A Christian woman, praying for Grace,
We're all on a mission for God,
To a path beyond, we're trod,
Every faith is for free,
It's up to you what you believe,
I must say I am atheist friendly,
All inclusive Christianity.

I have been practicing love instead of anger,
but how do I digest the pain my parents silently suffered,
or the losses my mother still reminisces each and every year,
tell me how can I respond with love when they taught my family self-hate,
to hate their home and hair,
to hate their skin and the clothes they wear,
how do I forgive generations of suffering,
and how they made my uncle a martyr,
brainwashed him to die in a war that could’ve been prevented,
how do I forgive the domino effect of life, that made their great grandparents **** mine?
love runs through my veins,
but anger lives within my blood,
I guess I saw it in my mother's eyes,
you can still love without forgiveness,
but it will take room in your mind,
build a home of sadness,
you’ll pass on to your child.

What happens to us—
the dispossessed, rootless
the disembodied?
We are hungry
tasting but not eating. I long for
matter
atoms so densely packed I can
see, hear, touch—
know
I want our stories spoken out loud
by mouths and minds, intact
remembered by trees old as my ancestors
in soil we made our own
Not carried by spirits lost to the winds
and scattered

Will they hear me
when I bring my fears and sorrow
in soft-beating bundles
to lay at their feet?
Will they come with kind eyes
when I call
sweetening in the summer of my life —
for help to find my way
home?

And what, when one day I catch
a hushed fragment, riding on a most
pale wisp of wind?
whiff of wood burning,
shiver of laughter,
a darkness
not quite mine
What happens when I let go of the longing
for things apparent?
an unravelling, a swell and shimmer
of space around each atom, as I
come apart at the seams
less body, more spirit
less me,
more we

Where do our spirits rest?
If not rooted down in land and place, then
the frailest of filaments dancing
seen only in sun’s first light—
reaching out, and out     twining the other
winding together, a web of ancient pattern
staying the stars
holding us all,
whispering

I visited my harbor
A refuge among the waves
I walked among giants
And touched the cold firm ground
And rocks that formed foundations
Of communities and families
Of a world handed down

I saw the faces of my elders
I felt the hands of my grandmothers
On my shoulders
As I scrubbed the stones clean
The sun shone on my neck
Warming me as I worked.
One last rinse of their headstone

And my task was done
They sparkled and smiled
Back at me
And as the dates in the stones held fast,
My clock continued to advance
And I left knowing I felt better
Their embrace was healing.