© 2016 by Beate Sigriddaughter
Goodbye
She looked like she was sleeping
in a blanket she had claimed
for her nine lives in our presence.
For a while I couldn’t comprehend
how the world could still be turning
east toward sunrise, east toward
moonrise, east toward phenomena we
cannot even yet imagine.
But there was comfort in knowing
earth keeps turning with or without us.
One day I hope to let go of life
at sunrise, watching the turning continue.
Meanwhile I imagine her exploring
new realities, stopping a brief moment
among butterflies in tall summer grass
as a memory touches. Oh, yes,
there were these creatures, people
. . . but never mind that now.
How marvelous all this.
Joy
There is a tree
in the center of our lives
it is called joy.
If God doesn’t want us
in His garden, then
we must seek another
God. And so I have
gone with my staff
and my hiking boots,
searching, and
pledging my love.
But you must go without
possessions. That is
perhaps the hardest,
to go without
clinging to your roses,
trusting there will be more
or, if not, there is
always memory where
what you once have
had is yours forever.
The kiss, for example,
tears at the bus stop, his
lips on yours, forever
yours.
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