My brother replanted a perennial from our parent’s garden three years ago to his own flowerbed.It never bloomed for those three years.
My father passed away last Monday, on Tuesday morning there was a brilliant orange flower on this plant.
His funeral was Thursday. That afternoon while we were gathered in the yard all the petals fell off.
Many birds flew around the yard, but one of them repeatedly flew in and around the veranda mocking us.
There is a small shrub in front of our house it had looked rather withered. Came home tonight to find it the most brilliant green,
almost neon.
Einstein postulated:
“energy can neither be created nor destroyed”,
and if that is so,
my father’s energy has come full circle
I have seen it manifested.
Now I know it works.
Copyright © Henri Ferguson 2003
Author notes
All of this is true.
Written June 21st, 2003
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truth
A child once asked, "how will I know it's you Mama, when you go up into the sky? How will I know it's you if you come back as something else?" ...and I wondered how I could tell her that faith has no story. It is what it is. We sat together for a while, and as I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply the beauty of her innocence, I felt a gentle breeze caress my cheek. I know too that 'it works'.Your poem brings me sweet tears and I thank you.
Namaste -
Dearest Henri
I just wanted to let you know that the mother of Riana, also named Myra, called me yesterday morning. She told me that one of her friends read my comment on this poem of yours ... See, another wonder: now I've gained a new friend, Myra Scheepers, all because you've written your feelings down ... Circles within circles ...
I thought I wanted to let you know.
Love
Myra
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A persons spirit is truely a mystery~
Never ending~neverdying~never aging~
And always wanting to be remembered~
It lives ever more
within the heart and mind of those who loved~
A wonderfully inspirational write~
They never truely leave us~Fore they live within us~~
~Smiles~Emma
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There are many depths of understanding to which we do not swim. While there is nothing to say that such things are possible,
indeed, the is no proof to dispute it either.
We don't know. We just choose to believe. -
Riveting tale told of your Dad leaving you signs and wonders around you to prove and confirm things to you. So, so many times, those who pass before us whom we will love, will try to teach or enlighten us..or if nothing more, seek to comfort, not to alarm
This keeps him alive as well. :o) I feel your Dada would be quite proud of this man he calls his son.
::smile::
sarah aka rhiannon 11 -
This is true, Einstien was right...my mother died at 59...I nursed her through 7yrs of cancer...you see I am her eldest...of 5...she was and is a strong women...raised all 5 of us alone...with my help...she never had too much time for me in my life..with so many younger ones...but I did not hold this as a negitive thing..for we had a connection that did not have to be filled daily...I knew that when I awoke that morning in her home that this was her last day...she had not spoken a word for almost a week now..I had been keeping her comfortable for days...you see I was able to do so, for I am an artist, with a studio in my home...no job to ask if I could...I just did...something that I had to do..it was my mother...all that day was different...I felt her tugging at me...her mind and heart reaching out to be let go...I called the preist to come...remember, she did not speak for a wk...the preist, father mike...talk for a bit with me first..it was of much comfort...I told him she had not been responding for days...he said that that was ok..she will hear him...it gave me hope that she was still with us...but I knew this anyway...he went over and said..."Betty", she moaned...I thought it was just a moan...not a response...then the preist aske, "Betty, how many childern do you have?", she replied, "Five", my heart jumped...I looked deep into the fathers eyes..he smiled..and continued to visit with my mother...she laughed at him..she answered him..every question..never moving a thing on her body or opening her eyes...when the preist was done, I walked him to the door...I wanted him to stay..but he replied, "There are other families with love ones dying too", I said nothing...this world of death...this fine line between both of the worlds..or dimensions...was fastnationg to me...after I closed the door, I walked over to my moms hospital bed that was in the living room for months...she made me promise she could die in her home...it was a hard task...but she deserved it...she began to gasp for breath...I was told by the nurse that it was called the death rattle...my mother was gasping for her last breaths...I and my sister, stood on each side of her...my sister crying...I was amazed and a bit numb...watching my mother leave our world...I no longer was looking at her..I was looking up...don't ask me what made me look up...I can not tell you...but I felt her leave...it made me still...silent...and filled with so much love..it was over whelming...she remains with me always...I feel her...you see, I know she is with me, for all of the times that she could not...when all was in such a rush to raise 5 childern...but now she has all the time in my world and hers to be with me...
Thank you for sharing...sorry if I ran on...just felt a need...your words were wonderful.. -
ahhhhhhh this is fantastic...just the thought of it, and I know what you mean....down by the river where we put my moms ashes, there now grows a wild rose bush, amongst the weeds and dead logs.
its amazing isnt it? -
amen to that.
even though we come and go, we never ever truly leave.
*gentle hugs from Ottawa* -
Henri,
your poem is beautiful...
I can relate and understand.
Thank you so much for sharing, Maria -
Sorrow intertwined with hope and some peace it would seem Henri...sorry for your loss.
~ sonia ~
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Creepy, yet comforting. Life is a beautiful thing...
==Fax -
Dearest Henri -
The light in the spiritual world is interconnected in a way we cannot even imagine. Your experiences reminded me of my own:
On the morning of 1 April 1998 I was walking into a restaurant, and all of a sudden my mother's favorite song, the very old song, "True Love", started to play. I did not hear this song for decades before that day. On that very minute - just after 9 o'clock in the morning - my mother died after having a stroke. The day before her funeral I was busy at an Arts Festival, where I exhibited the creative work of school children - I could not get anybody to stand in for me - when I was overcome by sorrow, which I suppressed because of my responsibilities at my stall. I sat down at a table amongst thousands of people and started to cry uncontrollable - something I rarely do! Suddenly I heard a male voice calling, "Riana!" I looked up, and across the table stood Riana Scheepers, a well-known South African writer, which I've only known from photographs. I asked her, "Are you Riana?" She said "Yes". She then ordered coffee and started to comfort me, asking, "Who are you?" "I am Myra", I answered, "... forgive me that I am so emotional, but my mother died and it is her funeral tomorrow" "Oh", Riana answered, "my mother's name was also Myra!" She continued, "And you know, I am not at all someone able to comfort a crying stranger ... but here I am doing just that!" I smiled and said, "Where is your companion, the man that called your name?" She looked at me, puzzled: "There was no-one with me - but I also heard a male voice calling my name." "Do you believe in angels?" I asked. "Of course!", she said ... of course it was an angel ..."
There I was, amidst thousands of people, all alone with my sorrow, but suddenly a Voice brought me in contact with someone I will always regard as a heaven sent soul. We were united in our mutual believe that an angel brought us together.
I just wanted to share this with you.
Take care, Poet.
Myra -
Henri- Firstly, I didnt realize your father had passed away... I am very sorry about your loss. Secondly, I do believe we all have a lifeforce and I also believe this energy is as unique as the human fingerprint. Do I believe your father had something to do with the plants blooming? Yes, absolutely.
I enjoyed this poem - tho, at times, it read more like prose, and that's alright with me. You expressed yourself very well and held my attention. I really enjoyed reading... Thank you for sharing your special experience - take care. Helen
Edited on Jun 21, 4:52 p.m. because ''. -
I find poetry in all things. A flower blooms...just when it should..a bird mocks..underscoring it's presence. A plant renewed. All things happen just when they should. And I, too, have had similar experiences. I hope those events brought you comfort.
Maddie -
I think Einstein's view of 'energy' was something quite different, but I like this poem - a positive way of viewing the world.
Its good that you can see your fathers spirit in the miracles of nature. -
had a similar expirience... tho it was with an herb plant...
inhale the seasons
ride the long blade of grass
smell the root of the cellar
its like an arrival of a legend
not a myth, drunkeness or nonsence
smile when the winds grow
feel the hand unseen
shaping yourself
long before each sunrise
see from the gulls eye view
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This doesn't strike me as poetry but you did hold together a very interesting idea. It may be worked out as a poem but I think it would make a great short story.
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Oh you have given me the shivers with this one, but I know these things can happen. I believe it to be true, I wish these miracles to be so, and I marvel at them when I hear of them. What a delight he must have been, and how comforting it must be to know that he is there, brilliant and alive in that shrub. You have witnessed a true miracle, I have had my own miracles in my life, things others would scoff at, but I hold them dear and believe them to be true. This is a beautiful tribute to your father.. and the Einstein quote gave it a perfect touch!
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whoooo........frist i am sorry, i got chills awesome write expressed well >byrd<
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