Soil Soliloquy

The same cool dark earth
that sifted through my hands today
as I stood over my father’s fresh grave
stays with me, lingering under my fingernails.

Absorbed into my skin, become flesh, as I’ve
become my father’s flesh, this exists as always,
a portion of the plain dust that lives the life each
new breath expresses, the same respiration which
breathes us into the presence of our evanescence,
this visible world’s offering to the invisible, my
offering to my parents – these hands held up
by all that’s gone to soil, enlivened by the
infinite breath, the same breeze sifting
so gently through my soul tonight,
at peace in the heart where all
dust rests, ready to birth
fresh wild wonder.




About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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One Response to Soil Soliloquy

  1. Bob OHearn says:

    In December of 2002, my father was dying of multiple cancers. My mom had passed a few months earlier. Three days before his death, I wrote this poem:

    Soon Dad will be with Mom –
    that cocky kid in a World War Two
    Navy suit, arm around his Sweetheart,
    will be flashing his half-bewildered grin
    again, as if for the very first time.

    The nuptial flowers that once
    wreathed her head will be imbued
    with a radiant light, but
    all he’ll see is her

    Memory of any pain will be forgotten,
    memory of any thing at all,
    save Love.

    Their service here completed, they will rest
    together in the arms of Love, blessing
    all without condition or partiality,
    home together in Happiness,
    no doubt cooking up some
    new scheme.

    There is a great Homecoming
    awaiting all of us right here —
    there is nothing we need fear.

    Even though it seems as if
    our vision now is clouded by
    the shadows of what comes and
    goes, this mystery of life and death
    can become transparent in an instant.

    When it all finally sinks in,
    when we finally recognize that we are
    only here for the sake of love,
    we can relax and let that
    love live us.

    Now the storm is passing,
    the sea is growing still,
    the moon’s no longer obscured by clouds,
    in the west, a shooting star.

    The home we seek is
    not far, it’s closer than
    close can be —

    all sailors return
    to the sea, at last, all
    sailors return to the sea.

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