Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Know My Heart

I picture her flying.

I see her surrounded by coolness, by dark blue skies; cutting through them and swirling up around the stars. I see her here, in my breath, in my heart; unmaking the little tangles of grief that have caught up there and selfishly refuse to go. I see her and know her. I can feel her spirit singing with peace.

But I miss her, too. I miss her warmth and life and stubbornness. I miss hearing her bellowing voice. I had pushed it all away because it hurt too much. I had pushed her away because I couldn't see her there anymore. And now she's everywhere at once and everything always, and I remember how much I loved her.

In this universe, I am just a small piece. I am a separated piece that has fallen from the whole. I believe in this part of our lives we all are. We're little parts of the bigger picture, but we've lost sight of where we once belonged. Death brings back the longing to find that place again. Death allows us to remember that to pass on is to rejoin the celebrating center of this glorious Earth.

A person I loved is gone. My Granny. She fought the good fight and served her time as one of us. She lost everything to this petty world and its cruel devices. She died a mere shadow of the warrior she was.

But now, I hear that roaring spirit cascading over this good Earth with whooping enthusiasm. Now, she flies.

Free at last.

And in spite of my sorrow, she knows I'm laughing with her. Laughing at the silliness of it all. Laughing in delight at the speeds she can now conquer and the freedom that can only come when you are reconnected to the whole. The freedom of pumping in the veins of Mother Earth and kissing creation in each silver moonbeam.

Know my heart, Granny. Know that I hear you. Know that I see your presence in everything I do. I will hold on forever. I will hold on in the hope that in my dreams you'll take me flying with you.

I can almost feel it now; diving through the substance of everything. Holding your hand and rejoining the pulse. Understanding. A little piece reconnected. A little wave in the ocean of time.

Miriam West
March 30th, 1917 - July 19th, 2008