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1985-02-12

Tuesday, February 12th, 1985 
            Letters wing their way to me,
              caresses on paper, friends in words.
            The warmth is there
              even as the weeks and months roll by.
            My mother, friend, lover,
              is imperishably and gently expressed.
            Like a hand that caresses
              or a look that tells.
            How good it is we remember...
              and how good it is
                 that 'we' survive.
                                 gallagher
                                 12 feb 85
            - upon receipt of Janice's letter.

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

Posted in 1985, Irvine, Janice | No Comments »

1985-02-12

Tuesday, February 12th, 1985 
            Time moving quicker each day
            memories so fresh they make me ache
            as they recede ... two years, three?
            When does the 'recent' (past tense)
            give way to a fixed and remote history?
            "Ah, this!", Bhagwan says.
            This moment, as those, to cup to our lips
            to cherish it all;
              the receding past,
              the current moment,
              and the promised future.
            Here, on the razor's edge,
            here I must love it all.
            And,
               if I ache for the past,
            I will love the ache
            and feel, with passion,
               that this is perfect too.
                                    gallagher
                                    12 Feb 1985

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

Posted in 1985, Irvine, Rajneesh (Osho), Spiritual | No Comments »

1985-03-07

Thursday, March 7th, 1985 
            The candles burn
              on a weekday afternoon.
            Two years since I've seen this girl
              and still the same magic with her.
            We talk about being lifetime friends
              and that slow smile burns inside me
            a smile of confirmation, love and joy.
              My sister, my friend.
            The years pass and it doesn't matter
              if they go forwards or back.
            These friendships we have
              are the only enduring touchstones
            as our lives sweep us all
              to our demise.
            The candles burn ...
              a day castoff from the everyday
             a lifeboat on a sea
              of nonsense.
                                 gallagher
                                 8 mar 85

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

Posted in 1985, Irvine, Kathy | No Comments »

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