“We live between the act of awakening and the act of surrender. Each morning we awaken to the
light . . . each night we surrender to the dark . . . .At birth we were awakened and emerged to become visible in the world. At death we will surrender again to the dark to become invisible. Awakening and surrender: they frame each day and each life; between them, the journey where
anything can happen, the beauty and the frailty.”
— John O’Donohue, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace
The Call
for Rosie & Terry
Wake up, wake up.
The sky is endless white.
Your eyes leap, blue and wild
as dazed fish burning in air,
then focus—the familiar sheen
of ceiling. Still here.
You glance at bedside table
for the pool of oatmeal, a corner
of bitten toast. What time
is it? Mid-morning, but could be
noon, night. Sleep is the stream
you drift in now, mind amphibious,
body plotting to cast its
carapace away. A wave
of color breaks over you,
a smock, your nurse, her face,
garbled voice, hand pressing
a phone to your ear. You listen,
whisper, love you too.
The sky is endless white.
Wake up, wake up.
Note: Rose Lark Schulz, 1917-2011, my mother-in-law,
left us this October. While the visible Rosie we knew and loved
has moved on to whatever comes next, the invisible Rosie remains,
like a drop in a pond, rippling outward, outward, outward.
Shalom, Rosie.