She remembers telling her youths many times how grief is like a tidal wave at first with waves crashing on the shore with such a vengeance. Over time the waves roll in with restraint and eventually over time, intermittently until they roll in no longer. Eventually, the water is clear like a mirror safe for a single ripple…
reminder
gentle ripple on the water
memories of long ago
reminder
times she held me close,
brings a smile
gentle ripple on the water
subtle, yet genuine
and surreal
memories of long ago
songs echo in my heart
even if off-key
The sound of chanting Hail Mary’s in different tones echoes from the bedroom. They are all kneeling around the bed of their dying father. The antique clock on the old sideboard ticks. Soft moans turn gradually into anguished cries.
missing his master
lying under his bed
the spaniel yelps
Walking to work on avenue de Gaspé, she looks at the trees just starting to bud. A seagull screeches overhead. She smiles and wonders if he is announcing to his buddies of some overturned garbage can.
one lone feather on this city street where’s the white dove?
one lone feather
message from above
dearly departed
on this city street
searching for leftovers
doves and gulls
where`s the white dove?
Maman, es-tu vraiment là?
ma belle, Colombe
The Great Spirit works in mysterious ways, like when I felt a homeless person at the Métro Laurier made me think…maybe, just maybe it was Amma checking to see if I would be more giving. I hightailed back inside the station to give money to that man.
Years ago when I had just moved to a city far from my hometown, I had just left my daughter at the bus terminal and was walking down Yonge Street which is a bit like Ste-Catherine in Montreal. I already missed my family and walking down the street I had not realised that tears were running down my cheeks. A homeless man standing at his “station for the night” in front of a retired theatre shouted out to me, “Hey, Lady, smile, nothing can be that bad.” I turned around and saw this toothless man, smiling and waved acknowledgement to that kind man. That man who had so little, was encouraging ME.
Tonight I heard about a young boy who passed way beyond his years.A volunteer counsellor accompanied him onto his journey…towards the light. I wonder if the Great Spirit planned this journey at a time the full moon shone on his path. An angel was born, I thought to myself. So many stars are not seen by the naked eye and yet I knew…
Thankfully, the Great Spirit places angels on this earth for a reason, those two homeless men and the volunteer counsellor.
angelic and pure life goes on look! a mourning star
angelic and pure
innocence
heaven’s open arms
life goes on
in another world
afterlife
look, a mourning star
please don’t cry
pain-free at last
Government agencies and financial institutions work like robots. They are like gigantic calculating machines that never see names but numbers. We are all numbers. They send mail to a deceased person even 14 months after their passing…establishments neglecting to correct records even if family members spend hours getting that done on the phone, in person and by registered mail. This time of year used to be dreaded by many who may owe money but for her, it is just dreaded to be reminded that this person is no longer here and when she gets mail, she can’t even write on the envelope “return to sender”.
the tax man chases everyone this month dead or alive
Tournesol dans un Jardin 