I draw on a happy memory
from among the leaves of my tea-
for strength.
It is the memory of a Sunday afternoon,
and the feel of the wind,
and the dragonflies that glide
towards the orchids beside the lake.
It is the memory of the Chinese orchestra,
when the symphony of
the drums, the flutes, the violins,
left me in ecstasy.
It is the memory of your presence,
as the melody spoke your words,
and the grass touched my hands;
when you were there -- yet not there.
Still, it is the memory
I choose to retrieve.
Without it, I would crumble
in a moonless night-- like tonight.
(October 2014)
~"Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain" ~Joseph Campbell