In Memoriam November 26th, 2008

Catharsis at Six Months and then some in the middle of the night.

June 13 09
Alan

My friend
mentor
soul
laughter
vicarious aliveness
comfort and
hope
My very own wikipedia
kaliedescope of stories
seer and sage
My number one fan

You have left a deep imprint on my heart
That will never be erased.

A man of God such as you
Was bound to be missed
I’m surprised you were spared
For 58 years for our enjoyment
Was it too much to ask
That you stay a while longer

Would you please tell me
How we’re supposed to carry on
With joy
When that which was joyous was tangled up with you
And now rains tears of memories that threaten to drown
You are everywhere but nowhere
I miss you
All is tarnished by your loss
I simply don’t know how to move on.

Your number one fan.

June 13 09

Naomi

Angel girl
With newly pierced nose
Flying free in India
Full of hopes and dreams
While hopelessly content with the now
Effortless roommate
Typical teen
Ageless nonchalant mystic
Bopping to your headphones
Eyeing the cute guys
Untouched by negativity
Waiting patiently for your big moment
Never doubting its arrival
Never ruffling your feathery wings
Or furrowing your porcelain brow
The very picture of serenity
And gratitude for every blessing
Relishing nature’s bounty
New treats at every turn.
Shot to pieces right beside me
Under a restaurant table.
Your last supper an order of asparagus sushi.

Riddle me that.

I am shocked to silence.


June 13 09
Om Shanti

‘Get under the table’ you say.
Stunned, I grasp the scenario
Sliding off my seat
Folding onto the floor
Accordion pleated body
Minimizing being.
Turning my head
I look at you.
‘Om Shanti,’ I say to save us
Evoking ‘God’s Peace’
In the eye of the storm.
You reach a hand to mine
Gaze deep into my eyes
AND…
Down we bow for cover
As the spray of bullets washes near.

My last encounter with your aliveness.

After the gun blasts I raise my head to see if you’re OK
Pieces of skull, pink matter, black hair
Litter the cream leather chair
You occupied moments before.
I can see deep inside your head in a way nature never intended
AND…
You’ve gone.
I’m not ready to live without you.
There was no dress rehearsal for this.
Please tell me. What do I do now?
Leaving is not an option.
You simply cannot be serious.
Come back and guide me for chrissake.
‘No fucking eye deer’, is all I hear you chuckle.
While comforting, it’s not enough.
You have all the power now.
Show yourself to me.
Show my Self to me.
I seem to have lost it in the fray.

June 14 09
Talking to God on the great white telephone

I am wrenching my guts up
Physically and poetically
It’s not a pretty sight

I always like to present
A clean front.
No such luck now.
Everything is such a mess
I wonder if the stain
Will ever come out
I wonder if the damage
Is reparable.

Can all this be flushed away
Leaving only the crystal clear waters
Of Source
In its wake.

Who said vomitus is not Sourceful?
I hear clearly from Awareness within.
If it’s not, then what is it?
How and from what was it made?
Is there an alternate Source
That no one told me about
Have I been surpassed,
Improved upon
Is there a 21st century invention
That replaces me?
Have I been twittered into selectiveness?
Why do I always have to be pretty and clean?
Can’t I get a little (a lot) messy now and then?
Won’t you learn to love my messy side?
It’s fun to play in the dirt sometimes.
It’s fun to fuss and fight and play dead.
Kids do it all the time
Why can’t I?

June 14 09
Good Medicine

Thank you Awareness.
This has been therapeutic.
This and a glass of flat ginger ale
Have given me back to my Self.
Even flat ginger ale is God
In hiding.
Even drowning in one’s own detritus
Is swimming in Source.

There is no escape
Just as there is no prison
There is only You
In your myriad disguises
Having fun with our forgetfulness.

Just when I thought I knew You
You got me again.
Score one for the Big Guy.
Score one for me
Final score:
One All.