Communion

She thinks of summer, the beach.  She remembers the full moon rising above the water and shining a path from horizon to sandy shore, like the deserted backroads of a lonely night.  She wonders if those drives are only memories of dreams, condensed into something far more infinite than the actual roads she may have once traveled.

Her boundaries seem to follow her everywhere.

She remembers sitting on the deck, looking up into all the places she will never visit in this body.  Her mind drifts with the rising and falling of dark waves.

What is never anyway to the ocean that rocks her, the heavens that reach out to her retrospectively from that vista imprinted on her mind?  It spirals her like a galaxy, coiling her longing into stars.

trails of sparkling dust–
secrets of ghost owls echo,
shadowing the moon

For earthweal, where Brendan has written about wild mind, the one that needs no device to set it free.

28 thoughts on “Communion”

  1. Such lovely writing, Kerfe, and beautiful images also. Just wonderful. “It spirals her like a galaxy, coiling her longing into stars.” I love that.

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  2. Lovely prose! What gripped me is the owl painting – a shadow or a ghost of an owl. I see the moon and the imprint of the owl – so many different interpretations come to mind… and that is the kind of art that thrills me!!!

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  4. This is truly beautiful Kerfe. I like the way you wonder if your memories of the sea are really dreams. I live by the sea and still dream of these inner oceans that do not parallel any ocean I have ever experienced in my waking life. The last paragraph and the following haiku speak of a deeper mystery than even that of the ocean – something out there among the stars perhaps some deep soul knowing.

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  11. This is beautiful Kerfe, divine really — an evocation of wild mind with memory as its forest. Centering the lines suggests the spread wings of the ghost owl, and the shimmering edges of moonlight on the water’s trail mix life and death so magically. And wild.

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  12. The line about spiraling made me think of the Fibonacci sequence that underlies so many natural things, and so many things we have created, perhaps a part of the wild mind speaking there. I love how memory is the medium by which the speaker experiences the images of the universe, and of the surrender which gives our lives form. Beautiful writing.

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