HOL HERMITAGE -
I lie, and all around
the symbiotic sounds of family:
Fresh caught fish fed, coffeeground,
sorrowed united in a Saturday Tjeldsund solace.
Cold air promises sky-
and stars suspended over snow-
The moments flow in ebbs and floods
of memories, pleasantries and spiritual mysteries:
and beguiling smiles of new-
punctuate the silences of contemplative recollections,
as feelings fight with logic to command supplication
like as majestic mountains master the horizon,
touching heaven,faith's fingers seeking salvation.
Bright light bathes the white wood walls
and strings of shoreline lights call
As there another lies, within the earth-
bedecked with long-
From all of Norway, even Spain, they've come
in respectful homage to a course now run.
The new made, well displayed, spire
keeps silent sentinel upon this saddened bower.
Strong, stark stones foretell the fragile fragments
of individualised wanderings over this delicious earth.
Records, speechless stories starting at the birth,
infuse the air and whisper wondrous words
of uniting, parting, re-
Yet, it is the beautified stillness amidst
the rich autumnal shades, not yet enshrined in mist,
that beckon every faithful soul to share
the harmony of God's eternal, endless, care.
And thus they rest, they sleep, they wait upon
the mysteries of transformation in the traveller's dawn:
This life is not a trial to be endured
See now, have we not all received
these momentous acts of caring, sharing,
flowers of friendship, even if sorrow leafed,
have smiled upon our sojourn, though it were brief,
with refreshings rays of respectful giving.
And what were these friendship flowers
if not torn tokens of appreciation
for a life lived to it's best
within the limitations of emotion's fjords.
Those hidden waters of suppressed ambitions,
those little stormy seas, whirlpools of wantings,
that stressed integrity or contradicted compassion.
We cannot judge the sea by surface foam,
nor really count the miles, as human spirits roam
in search of fleeting flesh-
of the deeply hidden motivations.
We can but gaze, in peace punctuated perplexity,
upon the diamond-
Perchance within our tear-
we may glimpse the triumphs of that love;
and though the winter storms of snow-
may oft cloud, hide, or blanket our beliefs
with pain's wind-
Even so, we know the central theme, the spiritual truth
that brought us to this quieted internment.