Until The Wind Rattles…

I fetch a leaf

off the forest floor,

morning sun warms

slanting earthen rock

the silence of stone

and heartbeats of prayer.


In a cloud

tendered on a breeze

your ashes sail

and come to rest

between canyon walls

and periwinkle sky.


Brushing our cheeks

along the way

with soft caresses

landing on pinyon and sage

the earth and stars

welcome you home.

ag  ~ for Robin




Deep Within Our Knowing








Cloud high

on a canyon rim

a raven sails

the sea of sky

carrying the blue silence.


Round and round

deep within wrinkled walls


drifts along

the slow breath of stone.



and the unknowable

mingle with our prayers

and salted tears

we simply offer as gifts.


In this moment

of grace-filled presence

we watch you fly

between the worlds

along with the Ancient Ones.


ag ~ for Robin



Mindful Writing ~ 2014:16

Waxing With The Moon

That moon again –
this month it’s the face 
of the Full Wolf Moon
as we take our place 
in a booth at the local bar.

We are not really there 
to drink or eat as much
as to share and discuss
lifetimes of laughter and fear
just in the past week alone.

Waxing with the moon
all that brings us close
to tears and beyond –
vulnerability to freedom
and the light of the martyr.

Oh, I get it now.
Christ accepted crucifixion
not as woe-is-me-martyr but simply as
the responsibility?

Without remorse or penance
instead to understand honestly
our own footsteps in our own lives
that lead us to and through 
the pathways of all the small guesses.

We two with the spirit of the Jaguar 
will come together the next time 
in a booth at the local bar to revisit
the laughter and fear of arms open wide
and the face of another full moon.

ag ~ 2014

for Vicky

Mindful Writing ~ 2015:15

Space For The Pain.

Funny thing how the heart works.  And how the mind works to “protect” the heart from pain and in doing so – damages at the same time.  We fight against heartbreak even on the most simple levels, and yet in the healing of inevitable heartache, if we allow it, there is a new space – a space for the pain.  Not the searing knife-like spasms of grief, but the more nuanced pangs of loss and letting go.  The mind no longer fights the pain, and thus releases the need for an ever open wound.

“What you resist persists.”   “When you yield you heal.”

That’s what I mean by “space for the pain.”  The pain does not go away completely, however it is like a wise elder who nods with a knowing that it’s all part of the plan.  It’s all for the good.

nature’s window into
a knowing heart

ag ~ 2014

Old Oak Table

Old Oak Table

as a two year old…

I can walk under you and play with you
you are my house and my umbrella
I can hide under your belly
you help me stand as I lean against you

as a ten year old…

You hold my things – I don’t see you
but I accept you as part of my home
I’m too busy to notice

as a sixteen year old…

I set plates on you for dinner
I think about Tommy

on my wedding day…

You are fine – dressed with lace
a part of tradition

as a grandparent…

We are friends – I know your age
I respect you well.

ag ~ 1989