westling

By Feral




The sun was high when you were called
to your final work;
the flame spiral reaching the center of its journey and
- releasing -

Tonight,
when the Sonoran coyotes gather in the liminal
light of dusk, they will sing the names of the dead
with their eyes full of stars and their mouths full of blooms.

This time,
you will be among them - as something new.
As name, as spirit, as coyote yourself
flowing into sacred song.

As for we who remain - our hearts,
heavy with the grief that is unhomed Love,
will find our upturned eyes dried
by the quiet warmth of desert winds
that traveled,
impossibly far,
through the dreamlands to reach us.



 

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2023 Feral
Published on Monday, February 19, 2024.     Filed under: "Poetry"

Author's Note:

1954-2023
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Comments on "westling"

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  • Adagios On Friday, November 3, 2023, Adagios (716)By person wrote:

    So delicately phrased. Grief as unhomed love… just a perfect punctuation mark to a life.

  • LIFEINVADER On Wednesday, November 1, 2023, LIFEINVADER (276)By person wrote:

    Grief has the potential to wield considerable influence at times, a powerful tool indeed.

  • carlosjackal On Saturday, October 28, 2023, carlosjackal (2786)By person wrote:

    This is such a beautiful and powerful dedication / eulogy, words fail me, other than to wish youlove and condolences.

  • carlosjackal On Saturday, October 28, 2023, carlosjackal (2786)By person wrote:

    And a bookmark. This unique and articulate piece of stunning poetry deserves nothing less.

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