Come see me, Sophie, as you’re walking the blue twilight between worlds.

Come see me, in that dream land, when the pain disappears, and the body absorbs into stars, and we can behold the sun as it rises on this first new day.

Come see me,

From your world beyond breath, when the boldness of your heart finds itself again, and in the unburdening from flesh you can see the magic of who you are.

Come see me, Sophie, watching the tears of a Sophie-less morning,
Then scamper off to the world you now belong to, catching joy like butterflies,
looking back to see me (one more time)
Quietly calm in the salty stream
Daring the world to make me forget
For as on the lawn that day and forever, with my hand stretched out, you reached back to me through Time, painting me into wholeness with vibrant splashes of your self, making my heart thump with happiness as your eyes held the wonder of the blue sky and the deep green, and the clouds watched and danced across the sun.

[Sophie was an old girl who went downhill very suddenly when I was caring for her In July 2017, and I knew it was time and that she would be passing into the next life so, through tears, sitting on the dirty concrete next to her stroking her head on our last visit, I said goodbye and told her to “come see me” from the realm to which she would soon pass. Sophie‘s family got back to her and were able to see her off in the purposeful-dignity humans are often called on to step up to and, after, when I’d sit for the family’s other two dogs, sometimes at dusk when her sisters and I would be sitting in the yard (like all four of us used to do) I swear I’d see Sophie. The first time it scared me because my left brain can be loud; but such it is that in the known universe of which humans understand very little beyond non-quantum, not everything has to make sense to our left brain—and in fact, it’s almost an irrational idea that it ever would—and I’ve since made peace with letting things happen that are as yet undefined]

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