Monday, June 10, 2013



 I WAS AT A CAMPSITE over on the Bruce Penisnsula and
an old friend seemed to be packing up, leaving, maybe
going away for good (this time by)...

and there had been a fire in the fireplace many nights 
before... but there was no fire that morning
and along the side of that hill of rock 
he had placed a line of conch shells...

the shells were like the days
of his life

no words were said, but just as he was
packing up and leaving, he gave one
of the conch shells to me... and in the shell
there was a sunrise or a sunset, a glorious
inner fire of beauty

there was no fire in the fireplace that morning
and my old comrad was going away. I assumed
he was dying. I don`t know why. no words
were said, and he seemed healthy enough...

the conch shell, his silent gift to me
before he turned and walked away...
as I say, it was a sunburst... and it was
obviously an experience of great importance
 that had meant something 
to him in his life...

no words were said... none were required...
and it seemed to me that, after a while,
in this land now words will not suffice...
in any land really... words do not suffice

and I realized that, whatever your religion,
whatever it is or whatever you say it might
be, the power of this land takes over...
and your religion is the gift
your vision is given
at the end of your days

whatever day it might be - whatever your
insight or utter lack of insight, it matters

your spirit is your vision which is a gift
of any of a number of final days

and every gift between friends is a
parting gift, however long you might
think you have together

many husks, many living gifts, many souls
for travelling roads

the conch shell reminded me of a vagina,
and I was thinking that`s kind of a strange
gift for one man to give another

and then I thought - what better gift?
what deeper experience of life...
and that shell has great meaning
for me to this day.

for it was a not a shell;  it was more than
a shell... and it was a gift given
without words

and it was a parting gift
as each day given to us
is a parting gift

my friend had been a hero of sorts
he had been a great athelete
and a man of vision

after that morning and the silent
gift of the sun-shining conch shell,
my old friend walked away into the
grey morning

and I have never heard from him
or seen him again

I assume he walked off into death;
or maybe he was dead when
he gave me the shell; strange things
like this do happen, and now to me
such occurrences seem the most normal
of events... maybe the whole experience
was a dream

I no longer have the actual shell;
but that conch shell is a sunrise
within me. And it is a sunrise
that has never set

I never saw my friend again.
but as I write this,
he is sitting here beside me
beside a campfire that was 
never lit; and this fire
has never gone

oh, yes, I say I am a Christian.
But what does this story
have to do with Christ?

this is a story of this land,
and we cannot own the land,
but its spirits pass through us
from a place that has 
no beginning

and a place that has no
is a place that never