Teachers
There’s a story we share, the old ones and I,
silver, twisting snags,
massive logs melting into the forest floor,
ancient root hollows holding open the earth.

In years past they taught me about life after dying,
Then I was a Hospice chaplain …

In years past they taught me to dissolve into the stillness,
Then I was becoming a QiGong teacher …

In years past they taught me presence and tenacity,
Then I was holding together a community with a newspaper …

In years past they taught me patience and resiliency,
Then I was a mother of teens …

In years past they taught me to find the new within the old,
Then I was a child …

This year, they are teaching me how just a few
can hold the wisdom for many,
forest or prison chapel …

Now they reach out to the muse in me …