Posted on December 1, 2014 by Nik

2 minute readLetting go

This evening

the burgeoning crescent moon hovers low 
over the western pacific
a veil of ocean mist rising up 
to kiss beyond 
the mountains – where I lay
in these steaming waters –
earthly aromas
rose geranium, thyme
rustling bamboo leaves
quiet cricket’s trill…

 
Earlier
I received a massage from 
a lady of deep grace
clairvoyance and powerful hands.
She said, your grandmother
was a feisty little woman, wasn’t she
as she probed my dusty corners.
Little, yes, feisty… at 97?
I think of her spirit more 
as quietly yet
unrelentingly
ever present
 
She
 
straddled an aeon
from a time 
of horse drawn carriages
on the streets of Vienna
to a glimmering
digital age
 
She watched Hitler’s entourage baring down MariahilferStrasse at 21
died then, to be re-born, impoverished immigrant 
in a war torn land
rose up, over generations
regaining dignity, returning late
home alone, diminutive 
white haired, matriarch
 
She is near right now, says Victoria, strong presence –
she wants you to know you are not alone
there are so many here for you – what can she do for you
 
Yesterday
Lana said, you know
they’re the same, Susy and dad
neither of them sense spirit –
Lana told Susy – when you cross over 
to the other side
and find out you were wrong –
you better come back and haunt me, ok!
Ya, ya, we’ll see, schau ma mal, laughed the lady of the passage.
I hear that quiet laughter now
humouring us
 
The setting new moon suggests a chapter  
beginning or ending
 
This last respite
under these stars
this mountain retreat – for 16 years.
Time to move back into the world
go back home, for a while – the old world.
Family
 
The candle goes out
moon sets over the visible horizon
continues on it’s unending journey
into the light, east to west
as above, so
 
in the absence of the moon
visible stars thicken
into family constellations watching 
over us down here in 
this beguiling mad circus of 
life on Earth
 
The spirit of each of us
ever present echoing 
in lunar memories
reverberating 
across the aeons
each last breath
a declaration of love
as if to say, do you see? The contrast
what a wonder, what a blessing.
 
[For Susan Heller Spitz 1917 to 2014]
 Susy