i’m packing to move
and in a purse given to me by my grandmother long ago
my dear Yaya
was a small silk pouch
holding three silver coins
given to me by my grandfather even a longer time ago
my dear Papa
coins from the same year i was born.
and putting them into my hand
feeling their weight
weight is for the world of the living
feeling their weight i thought of the practice of putting coins in the mouth of a person who had died
imagining these three coins in my mouth, perhaps, one day
i couldn’t remember where the practice comes from
or the symbolic gesture of coins in the mouth
sure, i could have paused, Googled the information
but i didn’t
packing is for the world of the living
as is breakfast
steaming, hot oatmeal
which now stands cold
in a bowl
after hearing the news the word
news & words are for the world of the living
of my dear anchor, my friend, my Elder, my love
passing in the night
tears & breakfast don’t go well together
if nothing else, i’ve learned this in my time alive here on the planet
and that is something, just to know that.
full moon pulls in & out
birth & death – labors both
one, we are ushered in, labored in by another.
one, we have to labor ourselves, it seems.
a different sort of birth.
with a mix of grief & joy with memories
to her family
to the hearts of her family & friends
and to all worlds
for all beings everywhere.