Séance

Soulful, know that love conquers fear. In this transparent incarnation, you are blooming. In my domain, you are dripping with waters from the salty sea. Cleansed, purified. The eyes of the Goddess are within you now. The Earth greets you underfoot with perfection, if only you could feel. Because for you, in this space, the Earth is fertile. Summon my life as I summon your death. Cast out your will like a stone into the sea. Appear before me in your truest form.

  These incantations, these words are my gift in this life. They overflow from me to you. I summon you now in this quiet room. On this morning, just barely dawn, light shines upon us now for the first time.

Soulful, you gaze upon my creation. A life of delicacy and a beaming reckoning disguised as rose cuttings. A house on the corner with picture windows. Heavy cotton that drapes and soft music from long before I was born. Herbs hang from tacks on the windowpane, the beds are never made. It’s a simple age for me now, reflecting life in its purity and love as deep breaths of oxygen. Do you miss having lungs and a heart?

 I remember when you were quiet. When you were sunken and hollow. When you were here in body so briefly and in spirit always. Now, you are my wildflower growing towards the East. Copper dowsing rods point to where the magic is, and they forever point to you. The guiding voice of my crafting is not motherly, but fatherly. It is not a woman of the moon, but a Ray of sunshine. A visionary. Sacrificial and unafraid. A bright light traveling through caves of dark, calling to be brave.

  You are with our people now. You chose a space of magic for your afterlife. A space of learning how to control the inner tides. A time where all people are equal and stand as one sorceror. You chose a life by the ocean. You’re in Norseman furs on horseback, bending energy with the slow movements of your hands. Tai Chi by Viking ships - togetherness. You share these teachings with me through voices on the winds and gentle commands to listen. In the sky when it’s crystal blue and through the burning of deep green sage.

  Soulful, I buried my tears in the ground with clementine rinds. The mountainside became fruitful. Life has become ceremony. I stand proud and alone as the great shifter – a crown imperial that grows in the valley of death. Persimmon colored and silken. The bedrock of my love is transforming. It is becoming a sacred devotional and it remains silent.

  I ask the western pines to call out your name. For their sappy branches to grow in speed sync with your memory. Strong through all seasons and healing. Weathering thunderstorms. Soulful, this is the way of deep roots. This floral kinship is nothing like blood. Or bone, or the dust of skin. It goes unseen. Rippling like tides in the most vital of organs. In the very fabric of thought.

  Beneath floorboards live the cancerous under pinning’s of our bloodline. I have buried them there and sealed my foundation. Soulful, this is the new way. They call up to me at times like generational hauntings. Like spirits turned to stone, crying for release. But I accept their echoes as prayers and I answer the ones that I like. Ones that would do good. Soulful, I think we’ve done it.

  We speak through séance now. Through flickering flames. Through pools reflecting the moon. When you became spirit, you became easier to find. Calling for you is as easy as finding patterns in clouds or as focused listening. You stand beside me now, watching. You still say very little.  I accept the sunshine as your embrace. At times, I can hear your laughter. I feel as if through this vail between the worlds, we are closer.

  Your little girl still loves the flowers. At times, I think I’m one of them. Roots like angel hair braided with the strands of the great mother. Whispers of love and dances. My body, my life is a garden. And sent by you, there is an angel disguised as a man who tends to every bloom with tenderness. He is rose hearted and golden. Soft and quiet. You sent me someone from the light, someone good. Someone to show me that love can be lasting, or forever. Someone to someday show me that departures can be sweet and full of ease.

  Soulful, will I find you in body again? Will you be reborn into flesh or flora? Our time here is coming to an end. The datura flowers have turned periwinkle in our circle. Have you noticed that the world dies colorfully? When you leave, will you bruise green and gold like you used to? Soulful, if you call my cottage home, it could be forever. You are immortalized as voiceless on the altar, but there could be poems as small talk and conversations about the moon. Soulful, I cry even though all is well. Even though all is full. Soulful, don’t worry. I’m fine.