ART OF HEALING

Art of healing. I've mastered it well. Its like riding in a raft through the rapid waters and I'm using a paddle to push through the water. I feel invincible these days, but that sort of cocky language seems to call someone trampling over you with steel boots. Here is a photo of my grandfather. He is a crow now, as he always has been. He died when my father was 5 but I felt him close even before I were born. We've probably lived more lifetimes together than I can count on my hand. This is how we mourn the death, we remember. How can you remember someone you've never even touched. Well I'll tell ya, its a feeling, he shows up when you least expect him. For me its during transitions, I see him a lot in Paris. Its probably because this is where I go to die and be reborn again. I've died here so many times now that each time I rise they call me Lazarus. They ring the bells for me, and call my name in their sleep.