There’s an empty spot
where you used to be,
brittle as a branch,
longing for touch.
Empty but brittle
that doesn’t make sense
you say with quick wit.
Well this is a poem
and you are a story
and the place you left
is brittle and empty;
I know as I touch it.
I drop your story
into deep water,
watch the tide line
curl around the splash,
dissolving hardness
with the weight of water.
The Earth forgave
so long ago
and now do we,
the empty space filled,
the brittle branch
become soft green
beside the changing sea.

photograph by Louis MacKenzie

When I’m tired
and aggrieved
I return to the earth
green and vivid.
The life of one petal,
one leaf,
here for a season
then passing.
You had many seasons,
many years my friend.
You brightened the earth,
brought a smile
and sharp wit
with gentleman’s grace.
I will miss you.

Michael Diamond
friend and colleague

Just when we thought
we’d reached the end of the world
the sea rolled over
on a wind driven tide
and a white plumed eagle
dipped into the sea
for a shining silver salmon.
Onyx black whales
traveled beneath the waves,
their arched dorsals raised
as they cut through the water.
Massive clouds fed by the ocean
scattered rain on the thirsty land
while raven sat alone in his high perch
telling tales of what had been
and what was to come.
Gulls careened above the rocks
and from the deep earth
came a thrum of great power.
Reaching the end
we had found the beginning
and in that place of quiet
our new found silence
nursed us back to health.

There is this time and this alone
to see your face and know you
over the years and miles,
the lifetimes we have traveled.
We’re here on Earth,
the bright blue jewel
with ages of torment.
How you’ve suffered again,
how determined you are
to be Bodhisattva.
Perhaps not this lifetime,
maybe the next,
but we know where you’re going.
You shed the skin of others pain,
hold to the light of understanding.
You glow in the dark
a beacon to the far shore.
Once more today
we see each other
and again this day
we know.