we have need of a gentle sky tonight
a soft sky
and a soft rain
take the greys and whites and soft gold
and paint a gentle sky
to soothe
soft raindrops
the tears of Rangi
and the tupuna
fall
and flowers will grow again
we have need of a rainbow in the sky tonight
a soft rainbow
just visible
take pastel colours
soft
and paint a gentle bow
birds
will
sing again
a soft rainbow
in a soft cloud sky
is all we ask
a soft sky
and a soft rain
take the greys and whites and soft gold
and paint a gentle sky
to soothe
soft raindrops
the tears of Rangi
and the tupuna
fall
and flowers will grow again
we have need of a rainbow in the sky tonight
a soft rainbow
just visible
take pastel colours
soft
and paint a gentle bow
birds
will
sing again
a soft rainbow
in a soft cloud sky
is all we ask
and one white dove
to return
an olive branch
At the time of my 18 year old son Ross' death.. I became aware of rainbows and clouds, sunsets and sunrises, butterflies and birds as never before.
Whenever they appeared I accepted them as signs, as reassurances of love, never asking questions.
It was some ancient understanding having no need of words.
Several mornings as I left the house early to go walking
I found a white feather on the doormat.
One morning my friend Barbara was staying with me.. we opened the door and
look, I said, there is today's white feather.
I told her how there had been a white feather
each morning lately.
It was the last one.
I never asked where it came from.
We had no white birds.
I never called it a miracle.
I never questioned it.
I just accepted it.
There are times in our lives when creation holds us very close
mother-father
Papa tuanuku and Rangi
May the Universe hold the people of Pike River close tonight...
( The photos are of our Aotearoa-New Zealand sky this almost summer evening. )
Beautiful words, Joan. When my soul sister Sally died she sent me endless frivolous ladybirds. On our long journey home from the hospital, full of grief and weariness, there was even a CAR - painted like a ladybird, red, with huge black spots, parked in a dreary car park where we stopped, from necessity, to eat! It really made me laugh and cheered me up. Death tears us to the bone and yet...it is such an astounding, beautiful mystery. Oh, and thank you for visiting Wise Woman Journal - I know it is hard for people in the southern hemisphere to follow the seasons the northern way, and oddly enough a lot of people `down under' seem to love `Spinning the Web' - you are not the only one. It gives me the strength to carry on writing, in the face of rejection.
ReplyDeleteThat first photograph is beautiful (as are your words)
ReplyDeleteWe Are Surrounded & Guided By Beautiful Mystery. X.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words and pictures, Joan.
ReplyDelete"In the midst of life, we are in death..." And vice versa, always.
Thank you, Joan. This is a tender and beautiful post. I read it, a little teary, and then just felt the need to say Amen.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Joan. Hard to type when I'm crying, but I believe in signs...and the ones you have experienced are just beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThis is so quietly beautiful, Joan. Feathers, yes. And "ancient understanding." What a fine term.
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautiful and moving Joan. It's a fitting tribute to those who lost their lives. Thank you.
ReplyDelete