Two Friends

Recently I lost two close friends. They were husband and wife and were in their early 60's. They were both therapists and spent their lives working with people to help them live fuller more sane lives. Susan fought a 7 year long battle battle with cancer, Michael was apparently perfectly healthy. A month before Susan died, Michael was hospitalized with what was thought to be a stroke. It turned out to be a highly agressive brain tumor. He died within 2 weeks. Susan died two weeks later. When I was talking with one of our Mexican friends who knew them he said, "It's magic". "I have heard this happening with older couples but never with two people who were so young". Having been a Buddhist for many years, I have had the 4 noble truths drilled into my head for a long time. I have heard more lectures on the doctrine of impermanence than you can shake a stick at. In a real way I am one of a group of friends who have entered the Bardo with them. We are all trying to find our way in a culture that does not functionally recognize the realm beyond life.

This is for Michael and Susan.....

Trying to Raise the Dead

By Dorianne Laux

Look at me. I'm Standing on a deck
in the middle of Oregon. There are
people inside the house. It's not my

house, you don't know them.
They're drinking and singing
and playing guitars. You love

this song. Remember? "Ophelia."
Boards on the windows, mail
by the door. I'm whispering

so they won't think I'm crazy.
They don't know me that well.
Where are you now? I feel stupid.

I'm talking to trees, to leaves
swarming on the black air, stars
blinking in and out of heart-

shaped shadows, to the moon, half-
lit and barren, stuck like an ax
between the branches. What are you

now? Air? Mist? Dust? Light?
What? Give me something. I have
to know where to send my voice.

A direction. An object. My love, it needs
a place to rest. Say something. I'm listening
I'm ready to believe. Even lies, I don't care.

Say, burning bush. Say, stone. They've
stopped singing now and I really should go.
So tell me, quickly. It's April. I'm

on Spring Street. That's my gray car
in the driveway. They're laughing
and dancing. Someone's bound

to show up soon. I'm waving.
Give me a sign if you can see me.
I'm the only one here on my knees.