fiery river streams
through banks of distant storm clouds
stars pierce gath’ring night
* * *
Blaze of dying glory—
Sing, choirs of angels!
Welcome our brother,
No saints dwell here.
Only we humans touched
by faith-filled madness
believe, wonder, weep
for love of beauty and the
wrenching pain of life and death.
* * * * *
I’m just back from my 50th college graduation reunion. The opening haiku reflects what I saw from the plane on my flight home.
The setting sun created a river of firelight running between distant banks of storm clouds. It played, danced, rose and fell through turbulent mists, like a volcanic overflow sending molten lava into the air. Three stars appeared in upper levels of deep blue gathering darkness. Suddenly the fire went out.
On the second day of our reunion, we learned that our beloved music professor and choir director had died that morning. He touched each of us with his glorious music. On the last day of the reunion we shared memories, laughed and cried together, and recalled the difference he made in our lives.
The haiku and poem are for him and for all who know the love of beauty and the wrenching pain of life and death.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 November 2014