To Work with the Dead

The moon is not a difficult thing to love. Even behind a cloud, it is soft in its gaze, always poised at the edge of its seat looking down on me. I see it tonight, and I am moved by its patience, its ever-presence, its spirit in my world.

Sometimes, I forget it hanging there. There are weeks that I do not go outside at night. I bristle against the cold, the damp. Sometimes I forget that even in the rain, the moon sits it out, waiting. When I see nothing but darkness where the moon should be, that pale golden globe holds its place in the sky, singing its silent moonlight song. Even in total darkness, it does not forget its purpose.

I wish I was so steady in my way. I wish that the cosmos had gifted me a heart that trusted light to come and come again, stretching across the darkest canyons of my love-in-waiting. I wish I could touch the stardust in me now, know that I am spinning, spinning, spinning for good reason. All for the blessing of darkness in light.

The trees stand solemnly still in the sky tonight, bare bones lifted high into the mist. I am here beside them, my cheeks chilling as I sweep the last of the leaves up from the driveway. I have borne the rest away to my garden where they blanket the cold feet of naked bushes and trees. Now I stand in the dark, afraid to go inside and return to my human existence.

Here, I am cool and wet like the leaves themselves, tall and dark like the willow. I, too, am waiting for spring. I stand awhile in the rose arbor. I pause to allow the experience to be, this waiting and watching upon entering one space as I leave another. I can go back, I can always go back. The willow laughs at my observation. She doesn't see any going back. She just sees me under the arbor.

I make this human gate, this threshold for transformation. I make it for myself. It is my axis to turn on. I pray for the light to be remembered in me. I receive the damp offerings of earth and sky. This is my home.

I am always reminded of these truths that run far deeper than me when I move so many leaves. It is always a blessing to work with the dead.