Communicating with the Dead, in 55

I imagined
communicating with the dead
was shrouded
in mystery

But it’s not

It’s a note
in his handwriting
tucked into a favorite book

it’s the smell of
his closet

it’s the work gloves
still stiff with
the shape of his hands

Communication with the dead
is small, common
everyday

and
pretty much
one way

 

This is a 55 word version of a longer piece I’ve been noodling with for FF 55 hosted by Hedgewitch, with a tip of the hat to Galen.  Click on the link to go to her blog, Verse Escape, and join the fun!

Communicating with the Dead

I used to imagine
communicating with the dead
was a wispy, fine-spun thing
shrouded in mists and veils.
There must be darkness
and hands held around a table
and maybe chanting…
My eyes would most likely
roll back in my head
my body go rigid,
a voice would whisper
from somewhere beyond,
and we would all be left in a stupor
filled with awe and wonder.

But it’s not like that at all.
It’s a note
in his handwriting
tucked into a favorite book.
It’s someone mentioning her name;
maybe a story
you hadn’t heard before.
Or a story you’ve heard
a thousand times.
It’s junk mail
addressed to him,
asking for money or a vote
he can no longer give.
It’s the smell of her closet
for awhile.
It’s the work gloves you find
still stiff with the shape of his hands.

Communicating
with the dead
is small, common, everyday.
It can be soft and comfortable
or piercing.
It can come at any time.

The one drawback
to communicating with the dead
is that it’s pretty much
one way.

Rumi Quote

Pale sunlight,
pale the wall.

Love moves away.
The light changes.

I need more grace
than I thought

-Rumi

 

I really will post my own words here one day, soon.  But until then I think these words are pretty cool.  I hope you do too.

Noble Dog

Oh dog,

so noble,

out there eating

your own poop

outwitted by cat and bird and squirrel

Oh dog,

so valiant,

frightened by

your shadow, the cat, and thunder

Oh dog,

so hungry,

eating a box of tissues,

most of a couch cushion

and my cell phone

Oh dog,

so sweet,

still a lap dog

at 80 pounds,

licking my face adoringly,

I wouldn’t want you any other way.

(except maybe for the poop eating part)

Sunday morning thoughts

I have been reading Rumi and Mary Oliver; most recently “The Truest Devotion” and “Wild Geese”.  They put me in a frame of mind to think of things like this:

There is love
And there are rules
And there is love of rules

Which of these do you worship?