ending of the storm.

non-responsive.

so.

I've spoken my last words to my father.

goodbye. I'm ending the call. I love you, dad. goodbye.

i.

across telephone miles,

a distance greater than the width of my heart.

even seated in the chair in the room,

is a distance greater than a broken, red thread.

it seems clear to me now;

we cannot recover what is lost.

only across the stretch of a prayer is anything like a miracle possible now.

not a miracle to survive and breathe,

for you are tired and far down the road,

but, a miracle to mend.

your mouth no longer finds the shapes of words,

and your mind is a soft and scattering cloud in

a sky looming with rain.

soon,

everything will be wet.

close your eyes and fall into

the dream of the Mother;

She holds you like a feather in the center of her palm.

close your life

like the ending of a storm.

Cease all hail and thunder;

and return to the clarity of sky.

This grief goes unanswered and,

so, this grief goes on.

May there be a witness to the casualties of war; an alchemist of lead to gold.

May the ancestors sing to welcome the

return of the fire to the heart.

May the great love of the world recover and

return us home to

joy.

May the beautiful things inside us be

unafraid to bloom.