Our Beautiful Silver Bird..

Image has been removed because the artist asked me to.You may find it and her other artwork here.

I awoke this morning around 5 am . I sometimes like to get up early because my house is so silent then. I sat at my computer as I normally do with my coffee and started going through my reader to make my blog visits. My heart literally skipped a beat when I saw "Circling My Head". I was hoping that it would be Renee . As you know I met Renee through blog hoping and I remember so clearly reading her posts with tears streaming down my face .I could relate because I had an Aunt die of breast cancer and I understood her pain and I could relate to her posts. However , I was not expecting the connection that came after leaving my first comment. She had a way of reaching out and touching you on a very personal level. I know that many others in the blog world feel this way as well.She writes with such an openess and rawness tempered with tenderness and kindness. She became a friend to so many of us . She took the time when she was very ill to send the most encouraging and supportive messages.If you visit her blog and read the comments you will see just how important her words were to many. I love Renee and I am sad to report that the post this morning was from her daughter posting that her prognosis isn't good . Our Renee is preparing to leave but she will not leave us untouched . I remember in one of her post that she said it was important for her to tell her story and she was afraid that she would be forgotten. That is impossible because she left her touch on so many of us. She has a powerful voice one that sometimes left me not knowing exactly the right thing to say . One that sometimes left my heart aching for her. It aches today. I miss her posts . I know she is surrounded by many who love her and I wish her comfort and peace.

"I shall walk down the road.
I shall turn upon my feet
The kisses of Death like scented rain
For Death is a black slave with little silver birds
Perched in a sleeping wreath upon his head.
He will tell me, his voice like jewels
Dropped in a satin bag.
How he has tip-toed after me down the road,
His heart made a dark whirlpool with longing for me.
Then he will graze me with his hands
And I shall be one of the sleeping silver birds
Between the cold waves of his hair as he tiptoes on.
-Maxwell Bodenheim
Dear Death,
Please be gentle with our beautiful Renee and when you tip-toe to her may you graze her with your most loving touch as she becomes one of the most beautiful silver birds.