I have a friend who questions all and accepts little.I wrote this poem for that friend, but I think it’s message is pretty clear to anyone who cares to listen.  There is no need to illustrate this message in anything other than words.


You Ask For The Answer

You seek a meaning to life,
Proof of a world that lies beyond.
Search in the arms of the sick and the dying.
Here the answers may be found.

Seek out the dying.
Sit by their beds.
Hold their hands,
Watch their faces,
See their eyes turn
To the darkest reaches of the room.
See their arms reach out
To those you sense
But cannot see.
If you cannot sense,
Allow that they do see.

Listen to their voices.
Hear the cries for the mother,
The father,
The daughter or son,
The wife or the husband
Who have gone before.
Listen as they speak
Of the things they see.
They see what you cannot see.
Listen closely and you may learn
Of a world
That lies beyond.

Speak little.
Hold gently.
Stroke lightly
The cheek
Of the one that seeks
The light,
The tunnel,
The caring embrace
Of the heavenly race,
Or the mother that bore them.

There is peace in that letting go
Of those with faith
And those without.
There is peace
Even in the struggle
Of those with faith
In the great unknown.

The struggle of those
Facing the final test
With no faith to sustain them
Is immense.
It’s fearful in its power
As they fight to stay,
Afraid to face
The nothingness they fear
In that great beyond,
or worse,
Hell’s fire damnation
For the things they think they’ve done.

Watch their faces.
Hear the rasp of their breath
As they struggle on.
Feel the release.
See the peace.
Hear the sigh
Of relief
As their struggle is done,
Those of faith
And those with none.

If you watch closely,
If you’re at peace,
You may see the soul
As it leaves this place.

There is no other proof
I may give.
There are many that wait
Lost and alone.
If you are willing
You may spend some time
At the bedside of one.
Hold their hand,
Give solace and comfort
As they make the
journey
We must all take alone.

The answer may come.

Channels of communication 
waver,
linger,
seek the woman’s
acceptance, 
allowance,
unconditional surrender.
Never
Well, 
maybe never.
She
vacillitating,
faltering. 
They,
hoping,
praying
for acceptance
of allowance
and  trust.

Channels waiting,
watching,
teaching
the one to give
that which of what she  is
to the form
of the words
as they come
to the mind
of the woman
who waited
for this moment
to arrive.

This woman
seeks a light
at the end
of a  tunnel
she’s travelled before.
Wondering,
remembering,
how  she
missed the  end
as she takes
the turnings
she’s taken before.


Words arising
lighten the air,
confirmation, 
anticipation,
and deception
waiting to concur.  

Lightness, 
Darkness,
burn within her.
Words pummel,
letters  shuffle,
pages turn
as she enters
the realms
of the channels
she’s known before.

Validation
ever arriving
in words that appear
in the thoughts
that she hears.
The rhythm and beat
of the fingers
she feels
and the stroke
of the pen
not  of her making.

Acceptance,
allowance,
surrender,
give
cause
for celebrating
the channels awakening
by beings beyond.