by Angela Paskins
Message From Beyond
You ask for miracles to show you that I am with you,
That I’ve not gone.
You look for signs and wonders,
Asking where the hosts of angels are,
As you strain to hear the trumpet sounds of glory,
But in vain.
And yet the miracles are all about you.
They are in the early morning chorus of birds,
As I sing to you,
The call of the night owl,
As I reach out to you in your sorrow,
The flitting of bats at twilight,
As I remind you life goes on,
The glorious red sunset with its promise of heaven,
The full moon rising,
Transforming darkness into light,
Breathing ease and fresh hope
Into your grief-heavy heart.
They are in an ink-black sky,
Spangled with stars,
The stuff of which we are made,
And to which we all will return.
They are in the russet-soft flurry
Of early autumn leaves,
Falling gently from trees,
In accord with the season.
These are the miracles, these are the wonders,
Which pulse to the rhythm and beat
Of all life and all nature.
They would have you know that
All things pass in time,
And that in every ending
Lies the seed of a new beginning,
That every memory is precious
And lives on.
Affirm and embrace this knowing,
Rejoice in its blessing,
Take comfort from it.
Most of all
Be assured that all is well,
And that love never dies.
I wrote this poem two weeks after my mother passed away. During those two weeks all the messages of comfort described in the poem were received by me via the world of nature, to which at that moment I was particularly highly sensitised. Most eerie, and yet comforting, of all, was what I can only describe as the keening of the owl outside my bedroom window in the early hours of one morning a few days after Mum had gone. I had never heard such a sound before and I have not heard it since. It gave me great comfort, as for me it was an acknowledgement from beyond of the raw anguish of my grief.
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