It’s one of those days… a beautiful sunny Sunday, warm in my house, sun pouring through the window into my living room. It’s a day for lighting candles, smudging, burning incense, taking in the purifying scent of Agua de Florida and palo santo- a day for cleansing and purifying. I am feeling quiet and vulnerable- in a good way. I had a dream about my brother Tim last night, and two nights before that as well. Somewhat randomly yesterday I came across a series of emails that we had shared during the period of time when our mother passed almost ten years ago on various topics.

I am feeling him close by today, as well as the presence of other dear ones who also passed in recent years- my beloved Henry, my eldest sister Jenny who died just two days after him, dear friends Shin Ae and Amber who both were gone way too soon- two young, powerful, brave, extraordinary women- both of whom had a huge impact on my life. And of course my parents- my mother, and my father who passed 40 years ago this May.

I cam across this beautiful poem when I opened Facebook today- written by my friend Peter Blum in memory of some of his own tribe. It spoke to me through my tears- good tears, memories of sweetness and love- and I share it with you.

December Dream
Around me the dead have risen
Look! Their parachutes of hope
open
in just the right places
Umbrellas, balloons, feathers, clouds
multitudes of curious transport
pull them through the night
with just the right traces
Resurrected memories of nameless
timeless ancestral entities
Chills of premonition.
My heart beats faster
I cannot quite make out
the faces.
-Peter Blum-