Thursday, December 05, 2013
For Michael Black, Again
For Michael Black, Again
Now that he is gone,
I keep making him
into an angel.
The gentleness.
The compassion.
How can someone
never speak ill
of another?
Or cast a doubt
on things the rest
of us wonder about?
(Are there really
angels waiting
in the wings,
ready to heal)?
What does it mean
to actually embody
“unconditional love”?
("I love you completely,
no matter who or what
you have become or done.")
To offer respect to each one
you meet, regardless
of circumstance.
I know, he had his aggravations,
his tendency to go all the way,
break the barriers,
too far in the minds of others.
Did he really live on Lemuria?
Was he really the reincarnation
of that famous ancient sage?
He couldn’t even
keep a job,
kept finding reasons to leave.
The original child.
And those incredible
puns—
outrageous by any name.
And the ever growing
treasure horde of crystals
vibrating together like
one great bliss machine
and the voyages to other realms—
planets and stars
such as Sirius and Andromeda--
places we had barely heard of
and seldom thought about.
Always I see him
with this glow
surrounding his form,
even a suggestion of wings,
telling reminders
of who he was,
who he became.
Dorothy Walters
November 26, 2013
