Old Friend

Body, my host,
My home, my harbor,
Graciously you welcome
My spirit within.
Happily you transform yourself for me:
     small to large,
     thin to fat,
     pregnant to barren,
     sick to well,
     young to old.
Safely you shelter my heart,
Secure from devastating storm.
Anchored in the present moment,
I thank thee, faithful friend.

My late husband Fred was born about 12 miles from where I sit, 79 years ago today. I was thinking of him this morning in twilight consciousness and was again struck by the awesomeness of life and death, of how I miss his body that comforted me in so many ways: having him beside me in church or theater, his beautiful voice, his hand to hold or to feel on the small of my back as we entered.

Perhaps saying goodbye to my own body won't be as difficult as saying goodbye to Fred's. It's just one more  transformation, And perhaps I'll recognize his spirit, waiting for mine. Until then, I'll remember him on his birthday, be grateful and have a happy Aries day.  

Muse

Your crashing waves come like a lover,
Ask me to manifest thought,
From the energy you bring.
Your boundless power is reborn as
Tracks on a white page.

Your presence inspires the nurture of
Earthy islands of matter.
With time and endless patience,
The islands become ecosystems,
Alive, firm and sound.

Your dancing flames draw air from my mind.
Words become fiery storms that
Whirl into passionate force
With potential to cleanse every thing,
And light a new world.

Your loving strokes nurture me wholly,
Only freedom between us.
I respond with minute points,
Tell small stories of my joy and pain.
And of forgiveness.

Infinite, you crush my finitude.
With overpowering love,
You call me to cross frontiers.
Afraid, inadequate to answer,
Yet I answer. Yes.

As I strive to gain the discipline to write every day as well as fulfill all my other vows, I'm often left with frustration. But the reconstruction of this poem, written about 15 years ago, left me inspired and breathless once again. I love it. Hope you do, too.