Water & Fire&Air

This week we cleaned.

Another round of fleas on the dog.

Washing and spraying and washing and spraying.

And then one of our tiny hamsters took her last breath in the hands of my son.

And he cried, “ it’s my fault!”

And we broke into the holding and caring.

In the pouring rain & pajama bottoms that were still on, well after lunch-

I cleaned the dishes and put them away. One by One by One.

I changed the laundry and held the heavy, wet clothes.

I turned the knob so the dryer could start and I looked for the shovel.

I pulled up my hood and slid my bare feet into the old bean boots perfect for mud and rain and grass -

and I dug in the rain, alone.

A tiny hole.

This reminded me of my Aunt who died this summer.

But we did not gather to hug or eat or drink.

And sometimes, I forget she is gone.

And then I cried because how could I forget that she died?

But in these days,

I find memories, time, family, death are so present and yet so removed.

Living in the liminal.

So here I am, in pajamas, in the rain, with a shovel, crying for this hamster but really for all of us.

The rain washing over and weeping me.

***************************

I woke this morning, fire on my mind.

The fire inside, the fire in the world, the fire they predict to burn down my city next week if things don’t get their way.

In the midst of my morning fire,

I light the two candles that are my secret keepers of the dawn.

I just sit and let them burn.

Flames dancing, while I drink coffee at the table.

Legs folded under me.

I notice how hard these chairs are and wonder if I should replace them.

The dog barks and I take him out front to pee.

As I turned towards the door,

I see two lights shining so bright,

Now I’m on the outside, looking in.

I notice the strength in the form,

And yet, a flow in the flames, shining, sparkling, dazzling.

Standing together, in an intimate mirroring.

Illuminating.

Yet holding their own.

Is that us?

*****************

AIR

You came through me in the wee hours,

I felt you explore my arms and my legs and my hip

my hip that is so sore when the old stuff comes up,

as it has.

And the hip that keeps me in bed, to heal and rest and slow down.

And then in the hours when sleep and darkness are hanging over our house,

You arrive and I’m awakened by your love.

I ask you to help me, to hold me, to fill me with your love

because it is in these hours when I can hear you the loudest.

Not in the daylight, not with the barking dog or the leaf blowers or the garbage trucks or the sirens that fill the days,

but only when I sleep-that you come to play.

Thank you my darling,

Now I wait for you, I look forward to your visit.

I long for your presence.

I snuggle in and wrap my arms around your mystery.

*******