In Seattle, rain poured down in heavy salty drops.
From my office window I watched them fall,
listened to them pound on bus windows
on the day my friend closed her lovely eyes
and let her soul drop its beloved garment
to put on a glory familiar to us all –
its brilliance does not surprise us.
She walked in her earth’s garment with grace.
When she looked at us we believed we were beloved.
In her gaze a pardon came over us like absolution
as baptismal waters flowing from a heavenly font
and we were buried with her in the delight of God’s favor –
such was her rising in the morning with the desert sun
and resting in the cool of the evening beneath the heavens.
Blessed are we to have been given a moment of sanctuary
in the place she made for us out of the tender spaces of her heart.

O you scarred and wounded world –
look upon such graces as humanity bestows
in spite of the darkness that deeply abounds.
Remember there are souls walking the earth
who, but for their masks of mortality,
are but fingers of the immortal one
clutching hold of what was, is, and will be
forever and ever.

Seattle, Washington – November 20, 2001

I wrote this when I heard of the death of a dear friend – Marsha.

I am digging a hole in the earth to lie in
using the tools I’ve been given –
morning sun, drifting moon,
spaces between places
when I remember
to see where I am, recall my task.
“A life and death situation”
she said, across the bar, overheard.
Even these, spoken words from across a room,
of a place I’ll never see again,
I will take with me to the place I am preparing.
All the bits, the lost fragments,
the billion forgotten things
I string together to make a tool,
a pitted spade to turn the earth
to dig a hole for me to lie in.

May, 2013 – Des Moines, Iowa (sitting in a restaurant/bar while on a work trip.)