They ask me every day,
who do I miss?
Who do I mourn?
Where is Homer?
How is Clementine?
Where is Pearl?
Do you cry for Rose?
How do I tell them,
that I don't miss,
I don't mourn,
It's not my business to know,
of dogs that are gone, that belong to others.
What is in my heart, is a choice,
not an obligation, is light, not darkness,
is love, not loss.
My heart is full of love – drowning sometimes – for what is here,
right now, in this place.
Maria, Simon, Lenore, Frieda, this farm,
the next farm, my blog, Red, cats and chickens,
ponies and cats.
What is there to miss?
My girl, my dogs, my donkeys, my life,
my books, my friends, my photos.
There is not room in my full heart for missing,
or mourning, or looking back at what is lost,
what is gone.
It is so full with what is here now.
There is no missing. Only being.