chilidish things

 I was walking in a bookstore when the phrase, “we always believed that she could fly” came into my mind, loudly.  That night, a poem arose.  The details are from my mother’s memorial….

 

tombstone, child's grave

detail of weathered tombstone, barnett, VT

 

 

chilidish things 

 

we stood in a circle about the grave

some read poems and some

 

chose silence. the funeral director

placed her ashes into the hole

 

while redwing blackbirds sang

in the fields. we always assumed

 

that she could fly, but then we

were only children, eager to cling

 

to childish things

 

 

 

©jafink/oldbones.newsnow.com

7 thoughts on “chilidish things

  1. Funerals are rich places for poetry, no? I was walking with an Episcopalian minister and a Buddhist priest one day years ago; as they talked they agreed they both would much rather officiate at funerals than weddings.

  2. Now this is synchronicity … was just about to email you when you poem came thru…It’s beautiful, fewer verbiage ( sp) more message. NOT childish, playful is more like it Jeff!!! . .

    Will be thinking about you and our tight group, send all my love to each/everyone. HOLD each and everyone in my heart. Am suggesting that you do the same,hold me with loving kindness and compassion in YOUR heart.

    Had to cancel all plans to RA. I fell again and now have yet another concussion. At least I have my eyesight. I’m planning on doing my own RA here at home. All of you will be present in spirit ( in my container) as I experience your presence and the teachings of the Sakyong .

    With love to all and all a good RA!

    OXX Paula

    >

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s