If Only This Could Be Said

What Has Been Once So Interwoven Cannot Be Raveled

This Poem immediatly came to mind this morning as I read Bill Lindsey's Poem 

"Stories Are What We Have" at his wonderful blog, Bilgrimage

Did someone say that there would be an end,
an end, Oh, an end to love and mourning?
What has been once so interwoven cannot be raveled,
not the gift ungiven.
Now the dead move through all of us still glowing.
Mother and child, lover and lover mated,
are wound and bound together and enflowing.
What has been plaited cannot be unplaited--
only the strands grow richer with each loss
and memory makes kings and queens of us.
Dark into light, light into darkness, spin.
When all the birds have flow to some real haven,
we who find shelter in the warmth within,
listen and feel new-cherished, new-forgiven,
as the lost human voices speak through us and blend our complex love,
our mourning without end.

All Souls by May Sarton

Photo:Fields of Eternity Series #5 

© All Rights Reserved

Remembering my Aunt Part 2

 

Until today I have never seen a picture of my Aunt holding baby Jody.  I didn't think any existed.  Jody was very sick as a baby and I thought pictures were the last thing on their mind.

TODAY a pile of these pictures literally fell into my lap while going through some boxes and papers.

Stories go on and on.

Today I also found out for the first time in my life that my aunt's husband had been a prisoner of war in a German POW camp in 1944-45.  Another thing that 'fell' into my lap today.  There is even a picture of him in the striped clothing behind barbed wire.

I am left with abosolutely NOT A SINGLE relative left alive from that generation to tell me why I did not know this, why it wasn't even mentioned.