Goodbye Poems

Holes in the larger fabric

Every soul leaves a hole in the world behind it. Some are vast, ragged, bleeding vents, weeping tears and echoing with cries.

Some are small though.

Sometimes the hole is small because the life was half lived. Ended too young- a full skein of thready potential.

Sometimes the hole is large but lost in the great rips and tears of war, plague, disaster and tragedy.

Sometimes the hole is small because the healer darned the weave before they left. They darned the world and dared to love. Quietly knitting together yarns of many colors.

Small smiles, quiet words and little kindnesses are the ragged threads left to patch the hole.

When they saw holes in the world they sought to patch them. They saw the world as it is, social fabric ripped and torn and their few resources and meager abilities in hand they knew their response.

Every day in little ways to repair what was in reach. And to know little ability to respond does not end responsibility. If we all do what we can we heal the world - it’s how it all got built after all.

One handshake at a time.

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"Leavetaking"

Blessed are those that knew them -

for to them every candle will be the Light of the eye,

every rain drop the Kiss of the lips,

the warmth of the Sun the depth of the Love.

Vast they were - the World whole and entire -

Blessed are those that know them still -

know that they dwell all around ye,

and deepest in the still quiet places of the Heart.

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Firestorm’s passing

When wildfire births the Stormwind and conflagration rages to tempest,

The oak cannot stand against it, nor the willow bend around it.

But the seed can sleep below it, awaiting it’s passing.

And amongst the anarchy fleeing the maelstrom roar;

I am a leaf on the wind; watch how I soar.

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