Is my mother migrating again? She didn’t have money but clearly the mighty
DNA of migration has a greater calling power than economic means. I can’t help but think that my mother’s part of
a vast movement of people. It’s sort of
like the herds of caribou, millions upon millions moving across the wide
stretches of tundra. Lands so vast, so
vast a movement, that they can be seen like the Great Wall of China from the
upper atmospheres. My mother is part of
this vast, distant migration. She’s gone
off to the Wild Blue Yonder, sometimes as far out as the outer rim of the
galaxy, past the curve of the Milky Way.
Who knows? Obviously, I haven’t
traveled there. It’s a kind of
wilderness. But the rain, the wind, even
the solar rays, brings stardust from there.
Stardust, working our streams and streaming; touching ours skin and
settling in the cool shadows, floating on the water, informing the DNA of dolphins
and riding the waves in with me. I like
to think that every day these little touches of stardust connect me with the
people I love but lost.
the
wild blue poem series is comprised of two sections. the first is grief, the
second is resilience. this is from the section called “II Resilience”. the
entire book is available through Amazon Kindle at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E2UU19O
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