Lost Colors, Dying Leaves
The color of changing leaves
is a sign of the symphony we hear.
We arrange the colors of life carefully,
folded underwear in new-fallen snow,
patterns, networks, dominoes,
sand-castles
The color of changing leaves
is the voice that we hear;
that enters our nostril and leaves by our ear:
informs us of sanity between birth and death,
a place were we rest, celebrate, sip
surrender
The inhale and the exhale of the moment of now
Last month, I received “the call”. My sister announced that my father was terminally ill with an advanced and particularly aggressive type of prostate cancer.
My first reaction was shock and then the grief set in. My father, who raised me with no partner, who taught me to search from the earliest days of childhood for TRUTH is dying.
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