Thoughts from a Thinking Girl

For Kathy

In the otherworldly sheen of the poorly placed light

my oldest friend’s cheeks and forehead gleamed golden,

her pink-fringed gray locks shone in that single wizened color.

I would have believed it if your image manifested a flowing robe

of purity, royal jewels around your neck, a tiara holding a delicate

head covering to frame your radiant face, a bindi between your brows.

I would have believed it if you chanted ancient sutra in cadence

that time has not erased.

Eyes cast down, lips straight, two fingers raised to the left, you invited

my gaze to the once-painful area where the coil delivers magnetic current,

rhythmically pulsating through the dorsolateral mantel, awakening

the amygdala, releasing you from earthly chains of darkness

that resisted all other callings to dissipate.

Rekindling the underactive center of kindness has smoothed

the grief for your parents, your father-husband, your children grown. Leaving

the world of suffering is serious matter; it is not for frivolous open-mouthed

smiles, upturned lips or sparkling eyes. I have never smiled when offered

mercy; compassion releases tears of relief. You, my golden-lustered

oldest friend, you who found beauty in my cairns built of lost self and doubt,

father-grief and husband-loss, you who are brave enough to submit

to the path of freedom, I wish you the promise of gilded release, the magnetic

pull of the light, filled to rounded-belly contentment and merciful peace.