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Last night I went to an old friend’s wake
he lay in the coffin now at peace
gone overseas from the land of pain.
Pictures of his active life and loves
lay about on small tables
where persons gathered alone
tearfully remembering him and the stars in his universe
dwelling in moments of solitude with his soul
to reflect on the paths he crossed
entering for a brief era
the valley of their loss.

The room was loud with laughter
and stories like the one I told
of beer and touch football three decades ago
when our bones were young
joints moved easily and swiftly
running and receiving passes
on legs that now move like molasses.

Hugging old friends and catching up
was like drinking a cup
of sadness and joy.

He was a man of peace
and there in that still presence
past grievances and sins
no longer swirled among us
but only volumes of shared lives
meeting our husbands and wives
abiding in a circle of re-membering
as if we were limbs and organs
of the same human flesh
still pulsing with unfinished work.

We were a wake
to our souls and his
and today I meet all those beautiful souls
in place of hope
that these precious moments
of rising from death
will remain with us
for our small sliver of eternity.
This wake was an emotional experience for me, seeing many of my old colleagues and friends and recounting common experiences.  My deceased friend Randy Conine was an English and Peace Studies professor and was an ethically eloquent speaker in our meetings and other public situations which called for judgement and ethical or moral stances. He was a carpenter too and he loved international students, especially African peoples for whom he was their active advocate and friend.
Bardo Dec 2018
Maybe it was a dream, maybe not, I can't remember now
Walking homeward across town
Suddenly there came this fog in from the sea
It covered the harbour and the streets, enveloping everything
   so it seemed
A fog so thick...so dense, I'd never seen its like before
All you could see was the slow drip of car headlights
As they'd emerge from out of the street next to me
Eventually I had to stop, I couldn't go on, couldn't see anymore
It was like everything had just faded away until all that was left,
   all that was left there... was me
But then - suddenly! Looking up. There! Right above me
The huge spire of a Church, towering up,
Like it was coming out of the clouds
I was amazed... awestruck
"Surely this was it" I thought, "surely I'd found it
(That which had been lost... lost for so long)
The Church at the End of the World looking down on all
    Eternity",
Even now after all those years I still had a memory of you
You were there... right at the beginning, right at the start, you
   were there
Those nights when I slept as a little child
You used come to me, come to me in the quiet, in the still of
   the night
I used enter and roam your hallowed halls...look out on your
   golden city...with eyes wide with wonder
It all started to come back to me
I grew excited, so excited
Because I knew! I remembered! I recognised you still!
You were there, all there just like you had been all those years
   ago
And you were the same, the exact same, you hadn't changed in
   any way
I saw the old familiar road down to you open up before me
And then the Bridge across appear
And then entering through your Gates
My heart it leapt inside me and my eyes they were filled with
   tears
I'd found it...found you again
The Church at the End of the World.
Mystical poem. A bit like the Twilight Zone this.
Ash Feb 2018
Did you visit me in my sleep?
I dreamed we met up: I visited you in the hole, you let me.
A cop led you down the hall and to the booth
And you would not meet my eye, even in the depths of my subconsciousness.
You were despondent, distant.
But through that, I could feel the anger emanating from where you sat on the other side of the glass.
You were filled with anger.
Not at me, but at the situation itself. Maybe it was anger aimed toward other people, maybe it was anger aimed toward yourself.
You lifted the phone eventually, and I held mine, but neither of us spoke a word.
I remembered that dream today, how vivid it was, how I woke up a month ago now thinking I had actually visited you in jail several states away.
In fact, I was positive that I had visited you in jail in order to cheer you up. It felt so real.
After I woke it took me a while to remember that you had died just a few weeks ago.
And today after I retold this dream to a woman, she swore I described an otherworldly visitation.
I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you!
How many times must I profess it?
You did fine, and you’re doing fine wherever you are now.
You’re where you’re supposed to be, and everything is okay.
I promise, I promise, I promise.
I’m a skeptic through and through
But apparently not when it comes to you.
Tell me,
Do you enjoy being such an enigma?
Nora Mar 2016
You’ve landed in my mind,
Meteor crashing into plain
Sight without any given
Warning - little did I expect
To find a crater in my heart
And a drive to fill the aching
Void

Your voice soft and dreamy,
Immortalized by memory:
The way words and truths
Roll off your tongue,
Cryptic creature, where
Are you from?

Where is your world,
What’s it like? I
Want to know,
But cannot go -
Why’s it that you
Captivate me so?
Same subject as Star Child. I am so captivated by you.
Cecil Miller Aug 2015
Her memory, the love of she,
In slumber,
That time when sadness sooths itself,
Pays to me a call.
And I, a lone warlock in the dark,
Feel the mattress demit as she sits,
And know her gentle touch on my face,
As I did when I was young.
I  am trembled by her resonance,
(*******, I am trying to sleep!)
Then, I wake to understand what has transpired.
Then, am blessed to have felt her love once more.
Then, I bid her go to God.
But, I do thank her for her visit.
This is a new poem. I submitted it as soon as it was complete. I spent about half an hour working with it. It is very personal. 3:49pm. Aug 19, 2015.
Atypnoc Mar 2015
Gabriel descended
              and he called out to me
So I got out of my bed
              and swam to him across the sea

We met within the forest
              under cover of the shade
I asked why he had beckoned
              he said, Because you obeyed

As we walked, he asked
              what forever haunts my soul:
If you had a preference,
              would you cause or close the hole?

The first to arrive at the other side
              and leave the ones you love behind,
Or live to lose them, one by one,
              the last one to be left alive?

I could not respond, and so I walked
              away and left him there.
I came when called, and my reward:
              a cross I’m too weak to bear.

Returning home as dawn arrived
              met by the sleepy faces
My beloved ones, unbeknownst
              to such lonely and dark places.

I’ve run away, and on the lam
              a nomad known by none;
Those I have left I pray forget
              the madness that Gabriel spun.

Night brings chill, and he returns
              and I, weary, can’t hide
Kneeling beside, he says to me
              You can’t outrun the tide

I’d hoped to circumvent the loss
              in death that he’d revealed;
For if alone, I could not lose
              or be lost when fate wield

The ones I’d loved were left without
              me,  I too lost them all
For fear of death had drowned my hope
              the day the angel called
Written over a year ago as inspired by a dream

— The End —