Open Asking Hand

Photo: On the window sill of the abandoned lighthouse on Burrows Island.

“The simple clenched fist lifted and ready,
Or the open asking hand held out and waiting.
Choose.
For we meet by one or the other.”
Carl Sandburg

We also part by one or the other.

Last words often come as a surprise. One of the last things I ever wrote to her was “The next time I see you it will be as if we are meeting for the very first time.” The last thing that she wrote to me was: “I swear in the days still left we will walk in fields of gold.” These parting words came from an open hand. They delivered an unexpected prophecy. I truly do feel that I will meet her again, and everything will be healed and new. I picture a place like the field of grasses and the single great tree we loved. Who knows which words will be our last. Who knows which words will spell out a soulful future of unexpected joys and karma.

Today is the second anniversary of this earth without her laughing eyes, without her mysterious dance with scarves and without the pleasures the beach cobbles feel beneath her feet. It’s a day to remember with an open hand. I’m grateful that she came into my life and taught me how to say “Yes” with my whole being. I’m especially grateful with how the poems began to arrive the day I first met her. And they have never left. She taught me that there is a place beyond right doing and wrong doing… a place where love blooms and grows and evolves without judgment. She taught everyone that she met how to be passionate about every transient moment. There is so much to be grateful for.

I miss you beloved, friend.
Soon the green grass will grow
bonny on this side.
How is it with you?
What are the fields like on the other side
of the hole in my heart?

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