Sangha/Father (from b to Harshaji)

[Guest guest]

Dear Harsha,

 

Mazie informed me about your father, so

I asked her to pass along this poem to

share with you -- it now approaches

the one year anniversary

of my father's passing.

 

 

 

 

 

At My Father’s Grave

 

 

The same cool dark earth

sifting through my warm hands

over my father’s fresh grave today

still lingers under these curling fingernails.

Absorbed into skin, become flesh, as I have

become my father’s flesh, this exists as always,

a portion of the ordinary dust that lives the life of each

breath between life and death, the same mystery of sudden

air that lifts us into sentience of this infinite room, where today

before three motionless ringing angels, carved triumphant above

some misty breathing cemetery soil, a visible world’s offering to

invisibility, my offering to my parents – these hands held high by

everything that has gone to soil, returned as all-embracing breeze,

the same breeze blown so silent through my heart tonight, peace

the grace of joy and tears, at rest in the urn where all dust in

silence rests, ready to birth fresh wildness, angels out of

earth, songs of fathers adrift in Mother, birthless,

deathless, Emptiness Mother, ground of all

that changes, vanishes, like these tears

now feeding the universe with

ecstatic densities of

dusty light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

b

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