After Christmas

Photo, Brian Federle: Desert Tree, Palm Springs, Dec. 2016.

After Christmas

life persists, though

the bare trees are

dancing with death,

their leaves ripped

from living flesh;

disincarnate,they wait

for the storm.

So how, then, can I endure?

I live that day every day,

clenched fists pounding

my penitent heart, crying

Mea culpa! Mea culpa!

What kind of a father am I,

absent at the hour of your need?

Oh, forgive me, my son!

Surely tomorrow

the rain will come.

(28 Dec. 2018)

from "Memorial"

Brian Federle, born March 4, 1986

Spring  

Seven years after my father died

my first child, my son, was born in spring,

and in the gleaming, sterile room

I first held him in my arms

as, with his impossibly wide, blue eyes

he calmly gazed right into my raw soul,

and I felt in a sudden rush of warmth,

a timeless love

and at last discovered

the reason for my life.

It was then

I understood my father.

In my son’s face I saw my own

and felt my father’s eyes gazing

in warm wonder on me

and I glowed with

unconditional love for my son.

The knot grows tight

"There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief." Aeschylus.

The knot grows tight

when I think of you

gone to that bright,

unseen place.

I long to hear your voice

on the phone,

at dinner,

at home

when darkness fills

me deep inside,

and for no apparent reason

I cry.

A Father's Lament

Photo Brian Federle, Hawaii, 2016

Spring fills this dry land

With life, yet

I cannot see your face

or embrace you with a father’s love

as I did when last you filled our lives

with your easy laughter

and beautiful eyes.

Shall I speak to you, tell  how

small birds gather

in the budding apple tree

hungry no more,

filled with joy?

I cry out to you

and the startled birds

fall into silence,

Let me tell you, then,

Of my new life without you.

Deep in my side I feel endless pain

where my heart once beat;

now I merely breathe

emptiness.

My son, oh, where have you gone?

Call to me from the brilliant heights,

for deep in darkness I lie

crying to see you just

one more

time.

(for Brian Federle, 3/4/86 - 3/25/17)

The Goodness of March

Photo: S. Federle, Little Pink

The goodness of March,

rain, strong winds,

buds swelling —

the everyday

resurrection.

The tree

we planted last year

on the first anniversary

of your passing

is blooming,

its small, pink bursts

quietly exploding

in the green glow

after the storm.  

I smile to see it —

thin, wavering limbs

climbing to the sky, defiant

in the March wind.

Are you smiling too?

Compassion

Photo: Brian Federle

“What is my new desert? The name of it is compassion. There is no wilderness so terrible, so beautiful, so arid, and so fruitful as the wilderness of compassion.” Thomas Merton

I’ll wander with you
in our pain.

Though dry days
and star-drenchd nights
we’ll search the sharp rocks
for pools of cool tears.

Forty days and
forty nights shall we journey
through the wilderness,

to the green oasis
where we’ll flourish;

audacious 
lilies in hidden springs

and there  
we’ll possess
every good thing.

(13 Oct 2012/revised 7/31/2018)

Golden Day, Emerald Summer

Mt Hood National Forest, 2014, Brian Federle

Golden day, emerald summer,

buds erupting

to green clusters

of sweet fruit –

so sit with me awhile

in the morning shade

as the sun slides

imperceptibly toward night

and see how small birds alight

on St. Francis as he blesses

all God’s green world with

life rioting, wind-

blown seeds,

weeds wedging into small,

narrow spaces between

slender blades

of tender spring grass;

and though

I cannot see you,

know that I love you

as I know

you love me.

So together

we’ll listen

as the morning

breeze sings

of life never-

ending!

(6/3/17)

"All I Ask of You is forever to remember me as loving you"

 Photo by Brian Federle: Passages

I heard this song in mass this morning; it struck me by its simple beauty and the comfort it brought me.  I've learned that it comes from the Sufi tradition of Islam, the mystical part of the great Muslim faith.

The chorus of the song, in Arabic, is Ishq' Allah, Ma abud L'íllah , which means, "All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you."

From its original provenance as a Sufi song, the poem has become a contemporary song often played at Christian funerals. It is called "All I ask." The Benedictine monks of Weston Priory in Vermont produce lovely cards with this tender wish.

To see it performed click on this link:

All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.

Deep the joy of being together in one heart
and for me that's just where it is.

All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.

As we make our way through all the joys and pain,
Can we sense our younger, truer selves?

All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.

Someone will be calling you to be there for a while.
Can you hear the cry from deep within?

All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.

Laughter, joy and presence: the only gifts you are.
Have you time? I'd like to be with you.

All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.

Persons come into the fiber of our lives,
and then their shadow fades and disappears.

All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.

Ishq'Allah, ma abud L'illah, Ishq'Allah, ma abud L'illah.
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.

To My Wife in Mourning

bright day,still birds, black
spots on the blue sky, slightly
sway in trees, and wait

for winter to stay
or summer at last to come
like we’re waiting for

the pain to stop, death
to give way to the winter
sun’s soft, warm embrace.

(for our son, Brian, 3/4/1986 - 3/25/2017)

Mercy

Night sways.

The lilting tree fills

with mercy.

Raging day,

blue-jay’s anger,

dolor of

rose petals

softly falling

to tender

grass

forgiven

as whispers

the fading tree,

“do not

forget me.”

(22 July 2012)

Sunrise

Photo: Sunrise Orcas Island, 2014.  Brian Federle

"Sunrise is an event that calls forth solemn music in the very depths of man's nature, as if one's whole being has to attune itself to the cosmos and praise God for the new day, praise Him in the name of all the creatures that ever were or ever will be."  Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander

Oh call me softly

in the morning!

With winter's sun

paint golden

the pale trees.

In deep waters,

in cool ponds brush my 

legs, caress

my tender feet.

Your breath flies

through the green 
canyons.

With tongues

of flame

oh, ravish me!

(11 March 2013)

Miserere

i

In October

golden days suddenly fly

as unexpected,

brutal

nights arise.

ii

You died last spring

when love seemed

to promise life

never ending.

iii

Thirty-one years before,

when I first held you,

your bright eyes

gazed on me

with wonder,

my son —

my love at first sight!

iv

But the cruelty of March

surpasses even winter’s rage.

I prayed for God’s mercy

On that bright, green day.

but bereft in my soul,

only bitter darkness

remains.

Soft July

since you've been gone the days

are silent

except for the rush of wind

in our apple tree.

See how the fruit hangs

heavy, pulling low

the branches;

ready.

so I’ll wait in the shade

of soft July

and think

of you.

(9 July 2014; revised 7/29/2017)

The Narrow Road

The narrow road

flows down the valley,

past hedge row, vineyard, orchard,

red farmhouses and

white mansions;

their black fences are lines

defining isolation

from the grey shacks decaying

where rough life once rejoiced!

I enter our little cemetery

where you wait

for my simple gifts…..

home-grown flowers,

a prayer,

a tear.

I’ll visit again

tomorrow.

Alone

“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.”— Aeschylus 

Alone

on this 4th of July morning

the sounds of sleep,

peace surrounds me.

Birds call, content

in the gentle, warm wind

of this summer day

dedicated to remembrance.

I can see you now

when I close my eyes.

I took you to the parade!

You were just two then,

clasping my hand

as the big firetrucks rolled by!

Amazed, smiling, happy.

Perhaps later today

I’ll find some flowers

red, and white, and blue

to cover your marker

to make you smile

and take my hand.