This meditation was written for a dear friend who, like myself, was the only Baha’i in our families and an avid fly-fisherman who now resides in the Abha Kingdom. I’ve chosen to share this as a commemoration to his life and our time together. – MA Silva
A Meditation for Harold
Shortly before dusk we wake our assaults.
Cottonwood saplings defend dampened banks.
We have not far to go now; only a twinkling of an eye.
Icy water engulfs us, but no shivers go up our spines.
Expectation haunts our thirsting souls,
as we stare into the heavenly stream.
The martyred fishermen of the Galilee,
also sought the fish that sustained their vanquished souls.
Your line is the first to stretch itself erect;
I see your spirit soar and mine is no longer abject.
Darkness settles and now we are cold,
but victorious we find the path home.
With bags abundant with ponderous catch-
beneath the cool, gray spirit moon;
we scent our denizens of the celestial streams
with cedar from the flame of fire and mint from the river of life eternal.
Horror seizes us; as we witness our brood,
unceremoniously, tearing at the flesh.
-It is only… every day fair,-
“Give us more” they shout!
When next I see you in the town under the burnt mountain,
sitting alone at a corner table of the least frequented café –
a look of disbelief in your eyes, as I sit,
we both hear the ghostly sound, the river rushing for lower ground.
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