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Sacred Journey

  • Writer: Nancy Iankowitz
    Nancy Iankowitz
  • Nov 3, 2014
  • 2 min read

Sacred Journey

Eyelids stained as if tattooed, She sees what is not there. He adores her as he strokes Her head and soft gray hair. Years of sunshine so enjoyed Have marked her fragile skin. Wisdom she was known for now floats in and out again. I know her life was very full, I feel this in my soul . . . Yet witnessing transition such as this Does take a toll. I am here for both of them As they have been for me . . . But not because “I should . . . “ Just ‘cause it’s where I want to be. They are my “creator” . . . for, in truth I came through them. They invested all they could with tools they had back then. They encouraged me to seek out mentors who could guide So I’d fulfill potential that was mine deep down inside. They made many errors in their judgment as I grew, But love and safety were their gifts to me . . . I always knew That they were there for me without a question or a doubt. And now I’m here for them to see they’ll never go without. He gently holds her arm to steady her, each step she takes. He worries for, at times, her hand extended often shakes. He tucks her in and trims her nails, He listens for her call. He watches her so carefully to catch, if she should fall. She yells at him, then thanks him for all that he means to her. Crisp memories . . . some true, some false . . . It seems life was a blur. But it was filled with meaning as They shared their ups and downs. They planted seeds and watched them grow . . . Their gratitude was found When life brought them together, so well suited – they felt ‘home’ . . . And as I live and breathe I’ll be sure neither is alone. There are some days Dad and I discuss what’s yet to be. We have it figured out, but that’s just intellect, you see. My emotions cannot grasp what my head seems to know. G-D, is this my challenge? Must my heart learn to let go? Alas, perhaps “let go” is not quite what I need to learn. I process but don’t understand how Sun and Moon take turns. I know embracing blessings can enrich each day we’re here . . . I’ve learned to channel energy to heal pain, grief and fear. I guess the lesson simply put is how to honor time . . . To heal myself mind/ body/ spirit . . . learning to say: “mine.” To make my life a blessing – YES! That’s what I now must learn So I can feel fulfilled, as I look back, when it’s my turn. ~Universe’Secretary

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A Trip To The Post Office

 

I adore this little town called Holmes because, you see,

It has the perfect combination of dear folk for me.

When we came here, it was barely 1994-

It was the year of 20 snowstorms, (I wished that there were more).

 

Here we are 2003, and I am right at home . . .

Amid the trees, the deer and mountains, who could feel alone?

 

Well, back then when we just moved in, the post office was just

Inside a little trailer . . . you could laugh so loud, you’d bust.

You see, I came from Queens and so life there, as you may know,

Compared to this small town was, well, let’s just say this one’s slow.

A few years passed and soon Holmes built a building proud and tall,

So modern and so beautiful, some said it did beat all.

 

Today is January 13, 2003,

And here is what my trip to send a package did for me:

I walked right up to Mary, and she smiled and said my name.

I handed her my package and, I greeted her the same.

Behind me was a woman with red lipstick and pink blush,

And last in line a quiet man stood, clearly in no rush.

He also smiled and gently stroked rough whiskers on his chin.

The missing teeth and soft green twinkling eyes defined his grin.

Upon his head a brown fur hat, his coat hung large and long-

Yet this old man did not seem frail – his voice so sure and strong.

 

We chatted lightly all about the cold and biting frost.

We each guessed what the wind chill was, and then he laughed and tossed

His head back as he shared a tale of years passed fast and free,

The story this man shared this morning warmed the soul in me.

He said “The cold wind bites the flesh, beneath the sky, so blue-

But I remember bathing outside in such cold . . . it’s true!”

His age and clothing seemed to both defend all that he said,

This fascinating man with the fur hat upon his head.

 

He laughed, “Without a wind the steam would go straight up, you see.

And such a hot bath in the winter!  That’s the best to me!”

 

The package I brought in was then scanned electronically,

Just as he shared his sweet tale of “days-gone-by” with me.

 

Mary scanned the bar code, then she told me to ‘log on’

To check the status of the package after it had gone.

I marveled at the beauty of his story of “those days”

Hot wooden bucket baths in frost . . . right under sun’s bright rays

Just as the other woman talked about her new web page . . .

How wonderful to hear his story from another age.

 

This interesting man’s whiskers, hat and coat confirmed the truth

About the story of the bath that he took in his youth.

 

I hope the flavor of his long life never will be lost.

I remain so grateful that this morning our paths crossed.

 

©2003 by NEC Iankowitz     All Rights Reserved

 

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