Oftentimes we feel abandoned.  Especially when we are in pain and have done everything we’ve been told and those things we invent.  Otherwise we would be sitting at the feet of the Great Healer.  But here we are in wonder at  what we do wrong  when we do what we were told from the beginning to pray and the great God listens.

Familiar we are with life’s arguments and come up with our own.

When we know enough  to frame the question to ask it, the answer is ready to be revealed  if we are ready for the work.  Listen, Ophelia  was given space to be viewed as given to me.
Take time to listen.

Listen, Ophelia ..

Ophelia, I will say,
do you think I am dead?
I sit on the very breath
you breathe.

I will waft an orange fragrance
o’er your head,
and you will see me take form.
I will crash the air with cymballs
and you will see me enter.

A cat cries in the night
and you will hear the infant.   
The moon will send its shaft of light
through the north window
and you will be plagued
with memories
you will scarce remember.                                                                                                         

You will warm yourself with the sun
from the south window
and it will nudge  a time and place
on the edge of those same memories
and you will know and still not know.

I have taken you to my bosom,
held you and pushed you away
and at once tightened my hold
so you will never be free.

You think I am dead?
I ask you Ophelia,. . .

Who indeed, is dead?

 

art by Claudia Hallissey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You will warm yourself with the sun
from the south window
and it will nudge a time and place
on the edge of those same memories
and you will know
and still not know.

I have taken you to my bosom,
held you and pushed you away,
and at once tightened my hold
so you will never be free.

You think I am dead?
I ask you Ophelia. . .

Who indeed, is dead?