REUNION BEFORE PHYSICAL DEATH
Past death and past pensioner's behavior
of having had to pull a curtain down in face of grave danger
had had it rewoven from dying to this earthly ground
she had found herself on other side of death or relationships once
with woven deep blue floor covering recovered like textile
from a mandala, a grave, a full circle of those five...
now she was standing tall as pensioned off psychiatric nurse
for them all, the art therapist, the burned one of gist
the darkened alive one with hardly a voice, just a whisper of sores
where the timely so tender kid was still trying to dig out embers of
life in the saddened heap of old mores
...the youngster, shamanic one inside suggested to her
they work together some more, yet whisperings of old
wanted no more of finely tuned heart to be wasted in grief
and sorrows and old mores....
the young one could not hear her voice, the older therapist one's
nor words even though she strained,
yet suddenly there stood tall this gentle noble man
with a long coat to cover spirit so fine
suggesting the young, couragesly freed one and him
walk to another phase in life called The Nobel Street,
the young inner active one aquised,
she thought she was diving into sleet
turned out to be wrong, instead as day wore on
she knew, the young and the little one,
that this was about an adult's compassion
for the hug love that had gone...for the one
who had not been able to be strong as males are expected
he had been deeply back into his huge cloud of opera songs
of a heart so broken of a soul felt so forloren he had grieved
and so longed...
that was yesterday's fond thinking along Noble Street's insights
acceptance of what went wrong, bad feelings were gone
by remembering him so hugely saddened from his own past songs...
the art therapist's whispered non-heard voice had come in picture once..
Today she is back with the princess royal of the Nor-way
meaning No-man's land, the story tellers' guild,
she walks along a huge middle earth European landscape
of no appearent worth
all hers and his-stories had released into a soul and a heart,
she talks to the princess royal of the story telling creed,
sat down close to her, she had walked the paths cleared behind
stone(d)stacked low walls bound by earthly bonds turned thin and grey
bound up for her to find her own ways
she had walked there, she had talked there
as the young one sat down by her side, talked to her again
told the royal one that she had been writing poetry from dreams
for 4 years, and now it was time they would be writing together
again, tender scores from added insights' healed sores..
the royal princess nodded her head,
she was of the royal story teller's creed
that is the oral story teller kind who talks with angels all around
both earthbound and heaven-found
had been to the cross a couple of times, yet poet now arrived
told her she understood her there, the melancholic fare
but to step away from the cross, to get down as it were
the royal princess did not frown
she knew what the motherly somehow poet talked about
and did step away from the melancholic way and
came around to walk these ancient grounds with her again
The poet now arrived
had been over to the staircase of a school
where she so quietly had sat down
to see if the head master came around
she did, both the pensioner and a taller lady fine
asked if the younger Liv was now hired as a teacher of a kind
headmaster-female-grand nodded her head, yes, Liv is hired here
they nodded their heads and smiled:
"Now we can heap onto her what we did not have the time
to do while we were there, on Planet Earth last time around:).."
said two ladies who came from "the other side":)
Liv said no:)...maybe yes.. who knows...she smiles, probably yes:)..
as she walks back to the cleared up castle grounds
no more now than stacked fine stone walls around
up to her left was a chapel built by fine and loving hands
made to commemorate two who had died
the king and a queen somehow...
on the wall were "AD II" in silver letters, made her wonder who....
was buried here...come to think of it now...
maybe that is just fine that she cannot quite remember
except the basement opened up, the tenderest of the youngest kind
who had dug like a small Ashlad in fairy tale embers of saddened old
to see if there was still life in the tenderest child, was handed by gentle and caring arms
to the so polite and so strong troll who lived there for all of humankind...The One for All...
she sat down again and spoke to princess-sister one a mirrored kind
got up and took her hand, felt natural as they were two of one kind
walking off to another sphere, knew they would be co-writers again
sometime...reunion before physical death in the ethers of our minds
May 29, 2010 AD