It was everything really
The sound of the snow as I shifted from foot to foot.
The air sharp, thin and cold
The white pines long arms reaching skyward
Needles turning in the wind.
The chanting.
Fire in the stone pit
The smell of char.
The burned paper notes of remembrance float
Around me
In the wind:
they are passing through the needled branches of the white pines,
black moths
set free.
In memoriam, John Daido Roshi
2009
~Caryn Silberberg
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Oh Caryn, that is so beautiful. The poem and the photo. They tear my heart out, and take me there.
Wonderful, Caryn, thank you for charing this with us!
Thank you Caryn for expressing the pain and beauty of loss.
The poem really gives me the feel of being there and receiving great teaching and love from Daido. It’s beautiful.
Thank you Caryn. Beautiful.
Caryn, there’s so much sadness, pain, love, and dignity in your poem. More than that, it also makes me feel connected to the energy that lasts. I’m really pleased that the little black moth in the picture is alive and kicking. Thank you!