Roger, Vienna, 15th December 2011

Carole Stolz, in Vienna 15th December 2011

Roger, you passed from us this day
- a loss so deep that all who
knew you well will carry
this scar forever. No hope for
us that you are now with
Him. Dancing, singing,
preaching, joyous. We are
miserable. Guilty in hopelessness,
we should be happy,
but we just aren't.
Should smile for you,
but we just can't.
Forgive us, for now the miss is just too big.

We can't see past our selfish
tears. Our fears of passing
casting shadows deep into
our souls. Who knows
with certainty the hope of faith
- that hoping for that final breath?
For death, brings life
and stop means start,
depart means come, well done good and...
...the rest we know, but lowering
our eyes we despise
the trite condolences and wishes.
Empty kisses.
Misses.

So what, that we held you decades here?
Nothing prepared us for the waste. The flavour
of life that you imbibed died with you,
Leaving a taste of sorrow on our tongues.

Never again will we live so
fully, because you are no
longer here amongst us.
You are departed. Our loss is great. Thank you
Roger for all you were.
For the laughter, the fun,
the wisdom , the hugs,
the ready tears. You were always
fully alive. No holding
back. No regrets.
Fully there. Fully caring.
Fully loving. Fully living.
A full lfe, that's what
you shared. That's what
you were. Life. Life
to the full.
Thank You.

The Fountain Dancer

 Carole Stolz 12.05.2011

(After watching the children play in the fountains of Warsaw)

Fountains of wetness

are watering the heavens,

rising and rising

as yeast rises bread.

Raising the hopes

of the little one dancing

to a rhythm that's tapping

inside of her head.

This is her dream world

where fear is a fantasy,

love a reality

and pain's ne'er been seen.

This is where rhythm

with water  and laughter

merge into a dance

as she taps out her dream.

When did we lose it?

The joy at small pleasures,

the forgetfulness, carelessness,

simpleness of play.

There joy is so tangible,

laughter an elixir,

hope the reality

of a single sun's ray.

Each day has its worries

enough for itself.

So I'll put fear of failure

right back on that shelf

beside worry, anxiety,

other future defeats

which rub on my heart

and all gladness deletes.

And I'll turn on the water,

slip on dancing shoes

and I'll skip to a rhythmn

that isn't the blues

and I'll dance with my Saviour

following his cues,

create with him a rainbow

of breathtaking hues

as the water and rhythmn

and exuberance fuse.

ChesterEastgate

Chester last week. This is my "home" ie where I spent the last years in the UK. A most wonderful Roman City, 2000 years old in 1985.

East Gate and the Victorian Eastgate clock                

View from "the Rows" The shops are on 2 levels, "Street level" and above them, "Row level"                                       

  

Some shops on Eastgate               

Joachim in "The Crypt" Coffee shop                                                                 

The Lakes

Wonderful to drive to the Lake District last week to pick up Jenny from her school.

Derwent Water, one of the most beautiful parts of England!

3 of 3 : WITH OR WITHOUT

Carole Stolz 19th January 2011

Some are without and some are with, even within.

Let the reader alone decide which side he sides with.

WITHOUT, not with.

   Alone...

      Hopeless...

         Helpless...

            Hapless

               Cold...

                  Nightmare unfolding with no end to the abyss of loneliness.

WITHOUT,not within.

   Outside.

      Not a partaker of the Maker's life.

         No light.

            No love.

               No reason to be.

                  A nothingness

                     An eternity of emptiness and agony.

WITH. Not alone.

   Together

      Ever present friend.

         Never ending friendship

            Companionship, where love and hope link arms

               And warm laughter is the music

                  Underscoring the dreams.

                     Of better days,

                        Where never ending sunrays light up the horizon.

WITH. Within.

   Inside.

      An insider.

         An understander.

            A truster where understanding fails

               A trustee of truths

                  A deep warm certainty that the way is right.

                     A sense of purpose in the fight.

                        No stranger to loss or pain or trial,

                           but no denial that the end is worth it all.

Joyful hope.

   - Hope of Joy.

2 of 3 : WITH

by Carole Stolz 19th January 2011

She died, shortly, but soon glimmered a flimmer of hope

as her heart, having lost its beat, surged to life once more.

Oh the loss was real enough, knifelike in its pain.

The scar still throbs with every beat of her broken heart.

But through the tears of loss and of loneliness shines a clear image of a better day.

A day when she will see that all these tears were collected in a glass, by loving hands, bent on comfort, stroking hurt away, saying words wordlessly which soothed the soul,

- ravaged as it was by the ripping assunder of the oneness.

So even though the miss is real,

the kiss unreturned,

the discussion now a monolgue,

the epilogue becomes the prologue,

the foreword in faith of a more wonderful time than that which was to date.

Her mate is gone, in the twinkling of an eye.

But the sigh is one of thankfulness for great times had.

Sadness overwhelmed by gladness to have known such love.

   And when the Bridegroom comes to claim His Bride,

   She knows that that celestial marriage will be even better.

      Unfathomable...

         Great is the mystery.

1 of 3 : WITHOUT

by Carole Stolz, 19th January 2011

She died,

a long slow death of tiredness and weeping

cold creeping into her bones,

love seeping out of her heart, her existence, her being.

Seeing only Hopelessness drawn as a painting before her eyes

she cries into the pillow...

Heightened sensations born of despair, tear her apart.

   No taste for the future

      No sight of a rainbow

         No hearing of music

            No feeling of tenderness...

just his smell,

   he is everywhere,

      but mostly in his pillow.

As a weeping willow throws out long roots, destroying all foundations

So her mourning destroys all that was good in them.

Will her tears wash away

  even that last presence

   - his essence still with her?

   - despairingly close in his pillow.

Holding him to her face, she traces the scent of her memories,

Praying her tears won't weep away this last connection.

Hopelessness...

   a breathing death,

      a living grave.