Someone has died.
It’s a quiet notion that fully forms
in my heart
as I sort through my possessions
toward the end of this moving day.
That kayak and helmet,
climbing harness and chalk bag,
those photos of a sun-parched woman
wide-eyed and eager,
are now leaving my life.
Age and wisdom have melted her away.
Ruthless in her ambitions
always driving toward the next goal
that endless highway where some new town
waited to be explored
only to lose its sparkle.
Then on to the next one.
And after that,
a whole new continent
spread out before her
and yet another.
insisting on doing all alone
she stood tall,
denied sick days
and always showed up.
Only alone, in the night
would the demons
crawl down the chimney
and whisper in her ear,
“Do more, try harder…”
Then she had little defense.
But this day, as dusk turns the world rosy pink
I close up the boxes and trash bags,
lock the doors of this house
that was a both refuge and nemesis
for that relentless woman.
A new door has opened…
Inside, the Beloved shows me
the way of Love—kindness to self and others.
It’s a cushy-couch place
where one nestles in, content to know
that all is right here, right now.
No seeking necessary
in this refuge of winter-squash soup,
warm baths, deep rest
and long hugs
with friends and lover.
And suddenly within the blazing sunset
I see…the one who I thought had died
still thrives inside me.
Full of bravery and determination
she now paddles the rapids
of the subtle realms.