You sit by me, Waiting
Patiently
*
I thought I might move Over,
make some Space
between us
*
Who are you?
sitting beside me
the Field before us
Empty
*
Are you here to Gather
as I am,
Reassemble
the bits and pieces
which, in the Frenzy
of everyday, get dispersed?
Or are you here to remind me
of what I mustn’t lose?
*
That in truth
there is nothing more to Fear
*
White with wisps of black
as if touched by my grandfather’s smoke
Tip of you Encircled
the trap didn’t catch you
my snowy roamer,
howling you called me
begging me to closen
I approached carefully
all the while bending to your Height
Finally in the kiss of Kinship we Bonded
with the ritual scent searching
and proffering of posteriors
Fierce but connected
Social yet independent
you shook my hand and without
drooling nuzzled my cheek,
your great whiteness Abounding
a loner missing your pack
you found me, another loner seeking my pack
where Wanderers Unite
Cease Pacing the Earth
in search of their Backyards
from Soul to Soul
I bow to your wild Elegance
silent hero
Champion of the Pack
Art Work By Yaron Rosner
To My Uncle Ty
Your shoulders held me high Above
the fray, the calm strength
of your hands hoisted me Up-
sliding around your neck
into your arms, down again
Terra Firma
The years apart, where
only Fleeting memories
of your warmth
the Vibrato of your chest
as you spoke carrying me,
surfaced and faded
As I grew into my fullness
I looked for you
Begged your mind
Prodded your heart
found Sustenance in Both
Now in the Winter of your life
you stand so Tall, profoundly farsighted
your Vision ever so prescient
the warmth and equanimity
Magnified
You look upon me
the same admiring love
with which years ago
you used to teach me the value
of my intuition, strength of my character
I look into those eyes, your Face
the rounded shoulders,
the missing Digit
see the Anchor
you have been
All My Life
To TSW
In the choice of Rubbing
Wool into Silk,
Saturating it with several Colors
merging in Spheres
as if by Consent,
you give something
of your Substance,
Renders like a piece of you
brushing my neck
a whisper
only, but a whisper
all the same –
*
a Murmur of your person
Murmur
only I can detect,
cherish, as I Wrap
the wool and silk
about my Nape
*
On the point of Departure
you have turned
once more, Winked
as you do
then faced your new Destiny
moving forward
leaving a Thrum
such a coded message
embedded in the Work
of the life you leave
Behind
*
