An audio post, link at Pagan Bloggers.
I’m not up for details of the complicated nature of our relationship at this point, but my brother Scott was dead within a week of being told he had stage IV cancer. (DOD: March 3rd, 2017) He lived in CA. His remains were donated to research, then he was cremated and the ashes shipped to Chicago where my sister lives. We rendezvoused there and held a service this past Saturday. I returned yesterday with him.
Welcome home, Scott.
Is it me? Is it you? My thoughts run frantically after each other, twisting in confusion. I search for the path to the center. Was there a minotaur, or simply a mirror? When does a hospice worker get to say, “nope, not you”? Do you get to say bugger off to your calling? When seeking advice from the Ancestors, why do they snort-laugh and shrug?
Answers in order: Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Whenever. Sure. Because they can.
If I can find a way to decipher my feelings around the situation it will all become clear, yes? Does a soul-cleanser get to say, “Not my job. I’m not the only Worker here”? Are there guns involved, and if so, what caliber? Will regret be involved? Does that change anything?
Answers: Same as the first set, choose as appropriate.
Decisions that shift hourly are exhausting. Life is exhausting. Death is exhausting. Sleep will be a temporary relief.
like the last breath of consciousness
like stone in the wooden bucket
dips for renewal,
dips for healing
in Brigid’s well.
~Pamela V Jones ©2017
This is my 8th year contributing to the Silent Poetry Festival which has been going on since 2006, and has become a wonderful, international event, with people posting poems in honor of Brigid on their blogs, Facebook, Twitters, Tumblrs, and other such devices.
This Is a Prayer for the Resistance – http://wp.me/p1DPDT-4rO