Fly and ride sister trip,
Surf on the crest of the wave wall
Shoot down a hundred thousand miles an hour glide
Moan through the disembodied mourning of self-expression
Burst open: a morning-gold explosion of multi-colored sparks
Chromatic swoop of wings
Slow to a grind
Halt and pant on the floor.
Sweat dripping to your feet spin-
Swoon into the dharma blues again.
Originally posted 2011-04-15 13:05:47. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
The bread you baked was warm to the touch, and the native plants you tended in the garden blossomed with the care of your hands, which would softly pat your dogs Penny and Blossom, and your cat Shane. You were drawn to music: when you were very young, you liked "Puff the Magic Dragon," and you would play the song hundreds of times on your little record player; then, later on, you liked The Cure's song "Just Like Heaven" -- but, who knew that, in time, your memory would linger for many like the visitation of an angel? For years, you would describe yourself as a queen, and your royal qualities continue to shine like gold: the glittering confetti you put in greeting cards; the array of flowers in your hair; your love of art; the hand-crafted gifts you made for people. You loved the color green, the color of hope. The fragrant green leaf of your kindness need not ever turn to autumnal reds and yellows and orange, but can remain intact as we recall your childlike spirit. Your peacefulness and your smile are still a balm to people. And your poetry is remembered, especially through the warmth of your laughter. We need not ever say farewell, Angie: we grasp your hand through the veil of time as we reunite loved ones to this day through our efforts to find the missing in Missouri -- and so your melody will play on.
(written for Angie's mom, Marianne) * * * Visit the webpage for Missouri Missing, which was founded in Angie's honor: http://www.missourimissing.org/
Originally posted 2011-11-28 21:20:22. Republished by Blog Post Promoter