Sunday, October 22, 2006

Of Loss

We kept a vigil for a long time for him, waiting for him to come back. Without him, we were a little lost.
~Sophia Landon Geier
Of Loss


The geese, like the seasons, are confused.

They dance the dance of butterflies
back and forth through Indian summer -
of sunrise and sunset, chasing light.

They, and Oakley Hall... They get it -
they grieve the loss of beauty and artistry,
and countless nameless things, but without knowing:

they are the art and motion of change
that defines the beauty that becomes of loss.

6 comments:

  1. *sigh* This is gorgeous, Erin. *hugs*

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  2. Thanks ladies. I'm still editing this - it isn't quite "right" yet, but I'll get it eventually lol.

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  3. Anonymous11:01 PM

    Hello Erin, a quick fly over visit here... all those pictures of yer kids... and this..

    "they are the art and motion of change,
    that defines the beauty that becomes of loss."

    Strong thoughts in those words, eh. Lady, lady, Elm, your loss laments here, and loud, a lady Job`s fountain of children....

    Cliff_ not at home so signing in faster as anon.

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  4. Fascinating, I enjoyed this

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