For Those Who Have Gone Before

The following poems are taken from "Pulse of the Sky" and were primarily written because of the loss of my dear friend, Dan Mansfield who died of AIDS in 1994. The sentiments are the same, as I lose other close friends, so today I revive the poems. 

On the Bank of the River Styx

I sit on the bank of the River Styx
Listening to the silence
that flows between you and me.
You call my name,
Reminding me that our love
Never needed a voice
    or
    an ear
    to hear.

Dan Mansfield

On your death bed, you reminded me,
"Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I'll not be there.  I will not sleep."
I believe this,
As much as I believe anything.
But whether you are on the breeze, or in the wave,
Whether your cry is in the gull, or your light in the sun,
What good does that do me?
It is not for you I am weeping,
But for me!
I cannot call you on the phone
Or go to your door and ring.
I cannot feel your strong touch or hear your voice
    or hug and be hugged.
It is me I weep for, my dear, not you.
You walked into my life and never left.
You took residence in my heart and there you sit.

Storms change the shape of sand.
Loss changes the shape of my soul.
I write your name in the sand;
The waves wash you away.
Gulls come to ask, "Who is that man?"
I say, "God sent him here to be his best,
Then washed him away with the tide.
He comes again only if I write his name,
Resurrecting him for a moment in time."

You, my brother, said before you died,
"Watch for me in the breeze
In the sun
In the trees
In the little yellow bird."

I've never seen you in any of these,
But I saw you yesterday,
In the Storm.

Power pounding surf,
Sand river-swirling at my feet,
Electricity,
Rumbling thunder.
You were there, my brother.
I saw you there.
I wept for joy and gave thanks
To the Universe.


A hospital is not a garden.
But I saw your stakes
Uprooted and the flowers
    of your life
Composting before my eyes.
I knew the futility of Spring.

Futility had always been a
Stranger to me
    A pest I could kill with
    Attentive belief.
How could I lose you in Spring
    When the bulbs
    Begin to bloom?


You stand backstage
In heaven
While I dance on the
Boards of life.
You whisper direction
When I forget my lines
And will be there for the last
Curtain call.