Friday, April 25, 2008
The following is one of Dad's poems that I have always liked, but which now has even more meaning for me. When we join together at the Celebration of Life, we who have been nurtured by Dad and Sage will have an opportunity to tell their stories.
All day I listened to the mountains
wishing they would speak to me
but they answered only with silence
until I walked out among them,
great council of chiefs,
and they spoke to me with many voices.
Chatter of squirrel, whisper of wind,
scream of hawk, leap of trout,
a startled deer's shrill whistle,
and the river's constant laughter.
At last I understood that our story,
like the mountains',
is told best by other voices;
the voices of those we nurture.