This poem goes back to 1985, during a period when I experienced a tremendous opening, and poetry poured forth. Unbeknownst to me while I was writing the poems, my mother (who lived across the country) had a terminal illness. I did not learn about her illness until she had died. Naturally this was a great shock. I feel somehow my mother wanted to spare me, and in a way she did, because I doubt the poems would have come as they did if I’d known of her illness. This poem came two days before my mother’s death. I dedicate the poem to her with all my love.
Silence Not you, not I Not the bird, not the sky Not the song, not the word Not the music that I heard. Not the waters, not the light Not the feeling of delight Not the blue, not the green Not the remembrance of the dream. It is the silence where the gift is found It is the space between my thoughts Where the eternal does abound.