Sunday, October 3, 2010

A Gift to Creix After His Dog, Roseanne, Died . . .

Remembering -

I saw the crows this winter's eve
wheeling and diving
in the tattered
remnant of the sun rays
over the great black fir trees
in the stand on the hill. . .
I watched as I walked onward. . .
my road home

Before me appeared
a wide field of emerald grasses
with the many hued flowers of spring
gracing the edges like
around a pillow - the black trees -
like a wall
in the misty beyond. . .

and meandering through flowed a stream
of clear healing water
singing the music
of joy in the clatter
swirling and dipping
. . . and flowing
the essence . . .
surges and leaps
like crystals poised in the air
with dreams of magic and hope.

I saw her as she ran with the pack
her spirit wolves guiding and leading her
 . . . back . . .to
her home in the mysteries, beyond in the wild,
she ran with a new birthed freedom and joy
cleared of the hurt. . .
the wolf on the right as white as new fallen snow
the one on the left was an ebony flow

They guided her closely
guarded between them
shoulder to shoulder
the three pressed so tightly . . .
yet hearing my sigh
she stopped
looking over her shoulder
seeing my despair . . .

She ran back to my side
said one last good-by
her tongue flashing out with
a smile big and wide.. .
Her eyes were like gems
highly polished with joy
and her peace flowing out in a radiant glow. . .

She laid her paw in my hand
kissed my face as her wont
looked me in the eye speaking love
and . . .then good-by

She was off
with the others
running free as the wolves
jumping and gliding, weaving and flying with grace
then she stopped
wheeled around one more time
gave a bow and a look
turned again

with the wolves her guiding spirits
. . . lept over the stream  . . .


from me. . .


My sister and I were very close. She ate at my home daily and was such a joy to have around. She always had such a big bright smile, her eyes always glowed with fun and happiness. It seemed to me that she would always, always be there, throwing open the door loudly and booming, "I'm here!" What better life was there than to have someone you love around you, bringing the joy they have to your side?
And then one night, late in the night, she was killed by a drunk driver; they said instantly. They said she died as soon as she was hit. He was driving so fast. She was stopped at a red light, sitting on her motorcycle, so close to home.
I never got to say good-by.
Not then.

One night I had a vivid dream. I were standing in a beautiful meadow, the colors so bright and beautiful as to be indescribable. The sun was shining, the air was clear. And there was a shallow river running through the valley. There were trees and there was green, ever so green, grass. It was a fantasy land. A beautiful place. My sister was there and we were eating and talking. Like a picnic in this mysterious place. We finished our dessert, lemon cake, and we laughed as we brushed the crumbs off of each other's face.

Then she said, "It is time to go." I asked "Where?" and she pointed over the river. I said, "O.K. let's go."
She said, "No, I need to go alone." She gave me a hug and wading across that beautiful stream, was instantly gone from my sight.


I was walking home from work, through a very stormy night, a few evenings ago. The wind was whipping so strongly around me that it was hard to stand upright. The lights were coming on in the buildings around me and I was wet from head to toe and beginning to shiver - but then I felt this warm glow in my chest. I looked up and saw the vision in the poem, the crows, the stream, Roseanne and the wolves. That is all. Just that quick little sight and then came the bones of this poem.


Barbara Wolfsong
January 17, 2010

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