In Tribute To A Beloved. . .

To Lift The Plough At Last. . .


She said to me that when she felt Spirit ebbing,  she would toss her suitcase in the car and take off for The Farm.  She not only loved those who nurtured her but the Farm itself which somehow fed the city girl.  There, nothing was demanded of one except to discard all pretense, assume the mantle of charity  and hold high the torch of love.  In essence,  it refreshed and renewed.

We give gratitude for having had in our midst our beloved Susan.  It is only time which separates who we are.  In that place of no time, will come the most meaningful celebration.

To Lift The Plough At Last. . .

How great and wonderful
is the borning,
the breaking of dawn
fast in the East.

How blessed is the soul
intent on magnifying its god,
borned in the heart
of many lifetimes’ consciousness.

Naysaying all arguments,
lamenting all laments,
laying aside all agreements,
intent still, but weary.

It is a wondrous effort
the Great God instills in Man,
to plough the furrows of his life,

to lift the plough at last.


photo by
Kathy Qualiana


5 responses to “In Tribute To A Beloved. . .”

  1. This was beautiful ~
    Thank you for your priceless gift of the written word that streams freely from your heart. I love you Aunt Vera <3

    My tribute to Aunt Susan ~
    Thank you for your beauty & grace that has mingled in the tapestry of my life. I love you my Aunt Sue <3

  2. Kath, not easy to span worlds but as part of the remnant we know the why of what we do. Life is everlasting. Thank you for commenting.

  3. Veronica,
    “My Gift” post was beautiful. Susan must have been special. I loved the plough poem.
    And love YOU!


  4. When Earth-weariness has its way with us…celebration, indeed.

    Sent from my iPhone


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