Friday, December 04, 2009
Before Stella, there was Rosie. She was a very special dog and a very huge presence in my life. I know I will see her again.
Rosie girl, tell me about heaven.
I expect you to greet me,
Your soft stub of a tail wagging so effortlessly
That I will see you even in the back row,
And even in the faraway barley fields,
Your enthusiasm rocked by the flow
Of something never lost,
Something never handed over.
Rosie, tell me what I should know about living
So I can get it right.
Tell me if abundance is real,
And if it is,
Tell me I can turn in my leash for a dance card
And stroll and roll through the back woods
Knowing that every sacred scent is in place.
Tell me, Rosie, that it is enough to try,
Enough to care, enough to prepare,
Enough to get it right simply because
It’s all right.
I’m unable to know these things myself
But I trust you, Rosie.
Now you know what matters most
And what matters not at all.
Can you tell me about hearts?
Mine is pretty deep these days,
But still I wonder how far hearts can stretch--
Especially In the moments when they work overtime.
I wonder if perhaps a heart does not break
But maybe snaps instead,
A little fragment breaking off to rest somewhere in isolation
So that certain memories and longings cannot be harmed.
Sometimes I wonder if I am up to the task
Of letting every broken fragment finds its resting place
Even if it means I can’t be whole.
Tell me Rosie, do I have to be whole
If given the chance for love to stretch me
So far outside my safe walls
That I forget I am confused and instead
Feel only gratitude and greatness?
Rosie girl, I will spend my days
Asking questions like this
And letting the answers and clues
Guide me home.
And Rosie girl, I will run straight to you
Even before your ears shoot up
For our hearts’ reunion of a lifetime.