For Kim, On What Would've Been Her 46th Birthday

I thumbed through books filled with the words of others,
hoping to find that perfect couplet
the resonant stanza that could
or would
perhaps
maybe
convey what it is to lose
a teacher, a sister, a mother, a daughter,
a friend.

But nothing and no one
described the way I fell to my knees when I learned you were gone
or how we cried in a restaurant while toasting you,
not caring what anyone thought,
or how reading of the way you had made so many others
laugh, learn and grow
during your short, brilliant ride on this beautiful terrible planet
made all of us even more grateful for you.

Instead I went back to a lesson learned as a child
while standing around a pond at summer camp.
On the count of three, dozens of us threw green pinecones
into the mirror-still water.
In silence, we watched as the ripples from each spread out
and touched the others over and over again
until every one was connected
and the pond was alive with movement.

Each child you've taught, each friend you've made, each tear you've dried, each laugh you've shared
THAT is what connects us to you now
here
today.

You have gone, but the pond is not still.

Your waves run through us all and across this place.

We catch the shimmer of you in the autumn light
and commune in the stillness of your beauty,
offering thanks for your overwhelming love and strength.