My Teacher


Septembers are hard for me.

As the air cools and the trees change,

I change and remember

the past which holds my present.

In this tree-house view of my life

I find some sense of her life

believing a purpose was fulfilled

utilizing her wisdom and her acceptance.

I can see the arc in her story

as she grew and struggled

and suffered and laughed

reaching into our hearts.

A teacher in the lives of

everyone she loved, and as every

good teacher knows, they learn

how to live and laugh too.

I sit in meditation and feel whole

as I empty myself of my human life.

I sit in my humanity and feel grief

as I feel the lack of her human presence.

I am both a soul living and growing in

my human body and a human being

understanding my soul feeling the

human loss of another.

Just as I struggle with the ego and the heart,

I struggle with soul and humanity

practicing acceptance in life’s losses

and opening to the vastness of love.

Grief comes when it comes

without an invitation, arriving on

my doorstep like a yearly visitor,

coat tattered and worn from life.

What choice do I have but accept

its presence and allow a place for welcoming