John’s Dreamcatcher

…for Zoe Alexandra

The Willow branch hoop

had not been strong enough

to hold the wispy limbs of

your soul as it left the womb. 

But it held firm our sadness

at your death - at your leaving

for years beyond that day.  It captured

the feeling of so many of our friends.

Held them tightly.

The sinew stretched the span of the 

round, wound frame of the dreamcatcher - 

of Spider Woman’s net - made at the hand 

of one who loved and wept with us.

Beads laced in and among the feathers were

meant to grab the remnants of the harshest 

pieces of dreams as they escaped your sleep, 

but quickly held our common pain instead.

You did not arrive to receive the gift of our 

lives, the gift of our people and our circle of 

friends.  The gift of our common us-ness, 

both together and apart.  The gift of shoulders 

and elbows rubbing together at work and play - 

person side by side with person.

You came to us in broken, partial wholeness;

a way of being we did not know how to hold 

in our hearts.  Our bodies cried the tears of 

outrage at the robbing of you from our souls.

Twenty five years later, John carefully untied 

the leather, removed the beads, and set the 

feathers free.  Tears in his eyes spilled over into 

mine as he explained the hoop he made you - 

all those years ago.  A secret until now.

And, as his telling released new tears from 

my eyes - tears of now knowing what he had 

crafted and held for you all those years ago - 

I felt some of the grief rise up - rise up and 

mingle with all the hoop had gathered over 

time.  From all who felt your passing.  Rise 

up then and offer you a feast of love.  

Our circle, our friends and we, have great 

small ways we have held on to the wispy 

limbs of your soul.  

You have always been known here, always 

remembered even though you held no human 

form.  You will continue to find home here in 

us and with us until we all know 

THE MYSTERY.