Reflection of the Beloved Disciple on an Ordinary Autumn Day
It is still hard
to believe he’s gone.
The fault lines of our
heartbreak glare even
more now as months pass.
He returned for those fifty days
putting flesh on his prediction. But just as we began to breathe he went away again, this time for good. Now each sunrise is a reluctant reconciliation, an acceptance of our given situation that it was far better for us for him to go. But today I am not comforted. Today what I wouldn’t give for an eyeful of sudden miracle or an earful of what at first sounded impromptu but was as we later learned a rehearsed conversation with his first love. How I wish I could turn around and see him say Go toward the light, my friend. Just go toward the light.
*last two lines inspired by my friend Robert Benson
putting flesh on his prediction. But just as we began to breathe he went away again, this time for good. Now each sunrise is a reluctant reconciliation, an acceptance of our given situation that it was far better for us for him to go. But today I am not comforted. Today what I wouldn’t give for an eyeful of sudden miracle or an earful of what at first sounded impromptu but was as we later learned a rehearsed conversation with his first love. How I wish I could turn around and see him say Go toward the light, my friend. Just go toward the light.
*last two lines inspired by my friend Robert Benson
I always imagine John feeling this way, especially toward the end of his life when he was the only remaining apostle. He must have wondered if his longevity was a reward or a penalty.
I always find myself floating for a couple of seconds after reading your poems. You have a beautiful gift for expressing what some of us cannot find the words to say.
“Today what I wouldn’t give for
an eyeful of sudden miracle
or an earful of what at first
sounded impromptu but
was as we later learned
a rehearsed conversation
with his first love.”
Gorgeous. Takes me to where I need to go.
Yeah. I see John sitting there thinking these things…even when it’s for the best the letting go still hurts like none other.
Thank you, my friend. For the good words you wrote and for the good listening. Keep punching holes in the darkness, mon ami.
NAMASTÉ —
R. Benson
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“possessing the restlessness of a seaker”
The Maharishi,speaking,i believe,about the John blases’ of the universe
Well done.
That we all might do exactly that, ‘go toward the light.’ Thank you, John, for the beautiful reminder.