Men and The Goddess

My Dad’s birthday was yesterday; he would have been 93. In part to honor his memory I did some shamanic work with a dear friend hosting a circle for study and ritual and journeying. And my own fatherhood and grandfatherhood became a central point to my ceremony and celebration! It reminds me of  a Mayan expression about the Holy; my rough memory in crude English goes something like: “We remember you remembering us remembering you”!

So in honor of and remembering Dad, here is a poem I wrote some years ago on his birthday:

A Memory of Dad

It was early morning, maybe 4
A cold March wind blew out
Of the North; drafts found
Their way through thin walls.

Snug in bed under piles of quilts
I heard the back door close tight
Behind him as he went out
To check on the pigs.

The brood sows were ready;
Anytime now they would drop
Their piglets in the scratchy
Straw of the pens.

But this cold night with dawn
Still far away, heat was required
For the newborns to survive.
As always Dad was there.

The Sun was well up when I paid
A visit. The wind was down.
I climbed the fence of the yard and
Entered the hog-house –

And delighted in those soft warm
Wriggling pink lives.

Thanks, Dad!