When I think of her I think of the long summer days
She lay in the sun, how she loved the sun, how we
Spread our blanket, and friends came, and
The dogs played, and then I would get restless and
Get up and go off to the woods
And the fields, and the afternoon would
Soften gradually and finally I would come
Home, through the long shadows, and into the house
Where she would be
My glorious welcoming, tan and hungry and ready to tell
The hurtles gossips of the day and how I
Listened leisurely while I put
Around the room flowers in jars of water-
Daisies, butter-and-eggs, and everlasting-
Until like our lives they trembled and shimmered
Everywhere.
We become what we love. Mary’s partner, loved the sun, and now she shimmers everywhere. My dream is that my ashes, or perhaps my unchemicaled body in the ground, will grow into a towering tree. Birds will eat the seeds of my soul, will nest in the hollowed cavities of my body, and fledglings will tremble as they grab one last time my upper branches before they fly away. The trick is how to become tree now. And the ultimate magic is to know I am the tree now. This means though that I must mourn not just the death of my friends and lovers, but also the tree felled and the bird captured. For we live everywhere, in everything, and everyone welcomes us home to our planet.
Where do you feel the most welcome?
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