Day 321

Certainty of Death
On a cold March Connecticut night,
Snow falling
Thunder echoing
My father collapsed - died.
Bob and I held each other.
Screamed loud and long until
I could walk back into the kitchen
load the dishwasher
clean off the table.

Nine years later
on an icy
December day,
I walked quietly into
Bob’s bedroom. In spite
of his blindness he could
tell it was me.
My confusion about death
slipped away that gray night
with his fragile body.

Since then many more have died.
I held my dogs
as they slipped out of their bodies,
rendering them useless.
Their souls come find me
whenever I need them

I cannot ask all things to
revive themselves in spring.
Nor can I demand that all
trees begin to grow buds
again in April
I have felt
the maroon edges of the
mountains in November.
I have felt the collapse of safety,
the feeling of other’s pain
undaunted by
my somber warmth.

Day 260: Three Best Friends
Originally uploaded by Dr Lindy

These wonderful birds were attacked and the 2 chickens killed today. Rest in peace you guys.

Swimmer, the duck, seems to be making it but was hurt badly. Please send her positive thoughts.

Please send them for Emma, too, who is missing her pets already.