Signs

  Sometimes, when you can't know, no proof of knowing for surety, you "know".
There are signs.

  A day ago, as I was looking for Satya, I came upon a knowing, that she would not be found, or seen again.  As I searched the ground, the crawl spaces, the shoreline, near the place that reportedly she was last seen..as I rounded the corner of that cabin, I found a turtle shell, perfectly preserved.  Large enough, but not really big, beautifully shaped in good preservation and color, laying on the ground. I instinctively picked it up, and inside this shell, no turtle was to be found.

   My inner knowing knew, at that very moment, Satya had also left our sacred ground.  She wandered off to die--into the wilderness, of woods and ground and sky.
And I knew that it was true.

   Dutifully, I searched on, looking for her, looking for a trace
for an onward search to see her face.

Listening intently for her sound..
only Silence, her breath not found.

Up and down, around the road,
I continued my search, but none 
was found.

Someone said, "Perhaps she's dead. 
Dogs go off and die alone, they do that sometimes,
and there are a lot of woods here, all around.

Although I knew inside this Truth, I still pursued the Search.
The empty turtle shell, a sign.
She had left, it came to mind.

Today, I grieve and contemplate, 
and meditate, and communicate.
To touch the "unchangeable" with my mind,
and saw a host of other "signs".

First, on my table of Holy books
appeared upright, in plain sight,
a picture drawn and painted a few years ago
aquired by me, my heart desired.

I suddenly recognized the image, a dog, 
a little dapple gray and brown, with short legs,
in motion, silly face, no hound.
None other it was...
It was Satya!

An absolute likeness, her portrait revealed.
Had fallen from the wall upon my books, so still.
So bright, alive, a colorful sign,
a sight, that instantly brought her to mind.

A visitation, I'm still here you see,
a pleasant image of the old me.

I play my chants and recite the Gita.
I struggle to feel, and release the grief,
the loss, but She was boss!

When time to go, not for me to know.
alas, a freedom, a breath, a loss
to know, is shown in "signs"

As I sit, and then observe, 
a mother pushes out of the nest
two little birds.
They flap their wings, together sing,
descending gently to the ground.
I know the process will be found.
Again the flap their wings and fly
and I know that someday, they too will die. 

But now I listen and hear their sound
and know quite certainly
their wings they've found.

And as I lie in a corpse repose,
someone drops a shell upon my nose!
I pick it up, examine it closely,
sunflower seed, the shell only.
The seed was gone
It hadn't been long since before I fed the birds.
A sign. A seed. 
A picture, indeed!

The cycle of Life includes the dying,
here then gone, and returns
Un-dying.  
I see, that there's no use in crying.