DEDICATIONS

When we start to remember significant pieces of our youth like it’s right here again, I suspect we are turning our cycle of life toward completion on this Earthly plane. I remember my mom sitting on the side of her bed looking forlorn. I sat down beside her and she leaned her head on my shoulder and said, "I’m scared." She was 87, but she was a child. She was ill and somewhere inside she’d gone back to where she became who she was. I put my arm around her, held her warm and close, and comforted her. I felt very privileged to be the one close to her in that moment, to be with her in that spiritual journey. It taught me much. She passed on a few weeks later.

Sometimes when we think we can`t fly at all, we wind up flying higher than we ever have before, just by being where we’re needed.  I wrote the poem below for my mom shortly after my dad died, many years before. Sometimes the trials of life are its enlightenment.
　
　

The Rose

When first he touched the lovely Rose,
she pricked him and he bled.
Yet smitten by her beauty,
he plucked her for her own,
surrounded her in crystal,
and kept her in his home.
She flourished in his tender care,
with the gentlest dew of fragrance
and an uncommonly delicate blush.
For the longest time they thrived together
on water, nectar and love.
Then suddenly he was gone.
The Rose was all alone.
He left a legacy of nectar,
and memories to last her life,
yet the lovely Rose, in crystal wrapped,
hung her beautiful head and cried;
bowed her lovely head and wept.