All Souls

Yes, it's the day before the day of all souls. The forces of fear and darkness have been vanquished for now, and the souls can rise up. All Souls Day reminds me that the ocean of mystery is large, that I am only a drop of that ocean, and that I can trust and grieve all that I don't understand about life and how it passes from one generation to the next. For the day I sit by the grave. I see my dancing bones dressed in black and purple, embrace the ephemeral form of this body, and prepare to let it go. So many have gone before me already in this life: my first wife, Eliana, lovers Natalia, Mary M., my mother Phyllis Marlene. The list is long, getting longer. My name moves up toward the front as the days pass. It is the day to remember, to prepare, to touch the cold and moving waters of the incomprehensible, to grieve, surrender, and most importantly, to open. Open the cage of the heart that holds a soul captive and let it loose so it can fly free from a world of pain and clutching. There it might  meet and comfort another still pent up, like a bat in a birdcage.