Imbolc

Al was a very dear friend - a talented artist, and a weaver of dreams. Eccentric, flamboyant, generous and inspirational, he is greatly missed by the many whose lives he touched, and whose creativity he encouraged. Not long before he passed, he was pushing me hard to write more, and to “put it about”. I was coy, and said I never really knew what to write about. “It doesn’t matter, darlin’ - just grab a pen when you’re really feeling something.”

Not long after, he slipped away from us in his sleep on Imbolc, the first day of February, one year ago. I stood outside his beautiful home as he was carried out. I went home and wrote my first poem in years:

Imbolc 2021

The night was at its deepest

and the salt wind licked fervently at your door -

desperate to tousle you one more time

and to warn you

Because the time had come,

for your nowness to be nevermore.

Because ready or not, here he was -

the grim creeper

Brushing aside the guardian wind

he breached the peace of your threshold,

snuck past the sentinel rook on the stair

to your bedside

No banter, no questions, no bargains to be struck,

no password required.

Just one last flutter of your heart/soul contract with

the cosmic bailiff

Here to harvest the essence of your last precious breath,

he abandoned your frail spent remains

to be happened upon

this Imbolc morn

And your many scattered mourners puzzle

at the sudden of your goneness,

question your whereness, celebrate your wasness,

Remember You

Now, as the salt wind whimpers at your door,

the bold spring sun glances fondly through your window

recalling the fractal facets of a diamond dude 

called Al

In the Celtic calendar, Imbolc marks the quickening of the year, of earth awakening, the promise of renewal. A time to let go of the past and to look to the future …