I wish everyone a safe and happy evening as we cross the threshold into 2010. I plan on staying home and surrounding myself in solitude and silence and finishing my new book, "Songs of the Soul." I look forward to our first meeting of the new year next Wednesday the 6th of January.
For those still learning to appreciate the words of poetry, my first love, I'll leave you this year with a poem I wrote back in August on the tenth anniversary of my husband, Jerry's, passing . . . It seems fitting to do it for him here, too.
A Decade . . . A Moment
A decade . . . a moment,
The then and the now
The time and the no-time
Only you, know the how.
How do I see you yet standing here,
Still hear your whisper ring in my ear?
How do I feel you in a current of air,
Or touch you, in your book by your chair?
Why do I ask? Does it matter at all?
So, what . . . the risk of my sanity or resultant stakes?
As long as you’re close,
So, what . . . the form that you take?
A storm or a star, a fox or a bird.
A spark of memory at the sound of a word.
Your eyes looking out from the eyes of a son,
For a new grandpup, your love of a dog instantly won.
Some days you’re vague, and some, stay right by my side.
Some days in storms you perfectly hide.
Others you soar away, and there I can’t go.
Yet, I know you’ll return riding the next rainbow.
A decade, a moment . . . our then, and our now.
Some day you’ll take me, and I’ll, too, know the how
of this me in the 'here', and you over 'there'
but today, only you know . . . the when, and the where.
And, I wait . . .
Susan Haley ~ 8/13/09 ~ Preserved by what It Is
A decade . . . a moment,
The then and the now
The time and the no-time
Only you, know the how.
How do I see you yet standing here,
Still hear your whisper ring in my ear?
How do I feel you in a current of air,
Or touch you, in your book by your chair?
Why do I ask? Does it matter at all?
So, what . . . the risk of my sanity or resultant stakes?
As long as you’re close,
So, what . . . the form that you take?
A storm or a star, a fox or a bird.
A spark of memory at the sound of a word.
Your eyes looking out from the eyes of a son,
For a new grandpup, your love of a dog instantly won.
Some days you’re vague, and some, stay right by my side.
Some days in storms you perfectly hide.
Others you soar away, and there I can’t go.
Yet, I know you’ll return riding the next rainbow.
A decade, a moment . . . our then, and our now.
Some day you’ll take me, and I’ll, too, know the how
of this me in the 'here', and you over 'there'
but today, only you know . . . the when, and the where.
And, I wait . . .
Susan Haley ~ 8/13/09 ~ Preserved by what It Is
