your bed is made

three days the sky wept
on the sunday afternoon
a patch of blue sky opened
not enough to see the sun
for the clouds still shrouded the mountain tops

slow heavy steps
led to the river
"why, why, why" cried
the place behind the eye

the fast winter flowing water replied
"let the why rest"

narrow winding paths
of fern & cedar
take you to & from this place
between

listen to the unseen raven
find where the mosses cover
the roof of the world

dear sister
when I next come
knocking at your door
please answer quietly
for your bed has been made

(12/25/05 Hope,BC)

:: note :: . . . written the day before the Hope service I knew she was to be buried in Saskatoon . . . two days later my hand held the the urn and placed it gently to bed touching the earth's bottom . . . to those reading i have the need to apologize . . . the mourning is private . . . i share the privacy . . . take care of the ones around you . . .