Sleep, dear sister, quietly sleep. Drift away from the waking limbo,
the pseudo reality of quacking reporters,
Philip Morris promos and cigarette smoke.
Sleep, dear sister, gently sleep,
remembering what used to be
in fresher days, cleaner days
of no toxins, tainted food,
polluted water or choking air --
a world in our dreams of what was.
People sleep, walk in sleep,
wallow in the oblivion and stupor
of ignorance, fear, and compulsion.
Why can’t we see the signs of destruction?
How can we learn to love ourselves, our world, and each other?
I think, pray, dream, believe
that we can wake into the dream of loving,
respecting our shared promise with Earth
to protect one another.
Sleep, dear sister, sleep one more day,
or two or three. Sleep as long as you can
until it’s time to be renewed, relieved, restored.
I love you, Laurie. Sleep in peace.
(December 12, 2006)
Laurie passed away on January 5, 2007
