A Medley of Poems for My Sister Kate

(These short poems were originally intended as a personal gift to my youngest sister, who grieved for the recent loss of her dog. But, as she posted them on her daily prayer blog on Jan. 27, I decided to share them as well.)

 

          1.

Unbearable grief
has many friends
among the angels.

          2.
And seeing their sorrow
the Prophet stepped forth, saying,
“When conditions are favorable for my nature,
I manifest.
When conditions are no longer favorable for my nature,
I cease to manifest.
I am not born.
I do not die.
I only change my form.”

And he continued, saying,

“Today I am as you see me,
tomorrow I am a cloud.
I am happy to be among you,
and I am happy to be a cloud.
It is a happy thing
never to be born,
never to die.”

          3.

Sorrow is the mother of happiness.
She creates him
out of longing
for the end of suffering.
Happiness cannot exist without sorrow.

Then feel the sorrow deep.

Be helpless in despair.
The happiness
about to be born
will be
so much greater
after hard labor.

          4.

I love my watch,
but the band wore out,
and Walmart’s doesn’t have
a replacement.
What kind of shit is that?
Making a watch with a band
that won’t last
and I can’t get a new one?
I see conspiracy in this,
when I pay money for a watch
I want to keep
but can’t replace the band.

Oh, well!

Once again
that thieving Time
has played a trick on me,
teaching me surrender
to what I cannot change,
detaching from a watch I love...
moving on...
leaving behind...
my old way
of telling Time.

          5

I get a lot of pleasure
when I remember those who’ve died,
a field of family, friends, and pets
living boldly in my mind.

And the tragedy of death

has no meaning then.
Once you heal from grief,
you remember only fun.

A Rare Event

At sunset last night,

an eclipsed Moon rose in the East,
a rare event we could not see
behind the storm clouds piling in,
rocking the coastal skies so violently
that the Bay-Bridge Tunnel,
engineering marvel of the twentieth century,
was forced to close.
Thunder cracked just overhead,
you thought for a moment you’d been shot.
Lights flickered, and some went out,
electric poles flashed balls of fire,
storm drains backed up to flood the streets
all across old Norfolk town
while sirens screamed from many directions
when the eclipsed Moon rose last night—
a rare event we didn’t have to see
to know what such an omen means.