OS friends,
You have no idea how important it has been for me to read these poems
and feel the calling of Open Space at a time like this. Harrison Owen
met with me in January 2008 when I was transitioning out of my tight
narrow secretive job as an intelligence officer and resigned to become a
graphic recorder and go back to teaching Classics (Greek and Roman stuff).
We buried my sister-in-law on Monday April 27 (Google "Sausalito
homicide" for details - huge story in Marin).
Her son, Max, 12, has been living with us for two years now. Below is
the poem he read (choked out) at the service which he wrote the morning
after I told him the news last Sunday (April 19). She was a complicated
person, and he got that. The funeral was a short 30 minute Jewish
service at the cemetery.
Creating Open Space: I took on the responsibility of organizing the
funeral, buying the plot, arranging for her body to come to Maryland
from Petaluma, etc. But on Sunday before the Monday service the Rabbi
came to firm up the order of the service pick the psalms and readings
and I put the two brothers "in charge", the two brothers being my
husband and his 9 years younger brother, who loved and fought with their
sister. I gardened.
The Rabbi comes over, sits down, and 3 hours later is still listening to
their stories. Marathon pastoral counseling session for the two
brothers. Finally they close the open space, he leaves, the little
brother leaves, and I ask my husband, "so, how was it"? and my husband
says to me, "It was wonderful, but I still don't get why the Rabbi
needed so much information about her when it is only a 30 minute service?"
Sigh...........................................
Mom
By Max Clary
I remember your touch,
like the sun right after winter,
I remember your face,
wrinkled,
like a warn out road,
I remember your voice,
soft like a spring breeze,
but scratchy,
like a branch against a window,
I remember your love,
like a blanket wrapped,
around a new born,
I remember your hair,
golden,
like a butterflies wings,
curly,
like ribbons,
i remember your hands,
soft like and angel wing,
but bony like bark,
I remember your jewelry,
colorful like a meadow of wild flowers.
--
Christy Lee-Engel wrote:
Hi Michael,
That is indeed a lovely poem, attending to the open "spaces in between"
Today was "Put a Poem in Your Pocket Day" here and the poem I carried
around to read to people also puts me somehow in mind of open space:
One Heart
Look at the birds. Even flying
is born
out of nothing. The first sky
is inside you, friend, open
at either end of day.
The work of wings
was always freedom, fastening
one heart to every falling thing.
~ Li-Young Lee ~
Christy
Christy Lee-Engel, ND, LAc
206.399.0868
http://oneskywellness.com <http://oneskywellness.com/>
On Thu, Apr 30, 2009 at 8:07 PM, Michael Wood <mjw...@admin.uwa.edu.au
<mailto:mjw...@admin.uwa.edu.au>> wrote:
Check out this lovely poem by Judy Brown, called “Fire”
http://www.judysorumbrown.com/resources/poems.html
Michael Wood
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