Poems written for Fran

Fran Read Us The News Today
Amanda Cruise

WHO ELSE DO I KNOW?
Susan Griffin

Who else do I know
in the wide branches
of his knowledge,
those whose names
he knew and liked to say
looking down from
willowy heights
his brown eyes
bright with
meeting.

Who else do I know
among the weaving
where he found himself
which he too wrought
folding us together
mindful of the texture of
each moment,
the vastness of time, and
all the small
but infinite
dimensions of being.

Who else can we call,
alert or
console,
to speak of
all his days,
still so fragrant,
so full
so sweet
you can almost touch
them,
Who else can we call
or weep with
who else ask,
Where is he?
Who else can give us
the answer,
whose meaning we know
and do not know,
Gone.

GREEN SAPLING
Grégoire Vion

It was Peggy who found Fran
Peggy, whose own heart never failed
Fran, resting a hand on his heart
his feet on the ground. It is easy
to know what to do with the quiet
following his music. His soul, crocodile
stays in the room with us, wants us
to caress the small mountains of his skin
he wants us to sing, to hum
an air he knew, the day before
Julien found bones in the creek
deer bones disposed in a shape
of sleep, we picked them up
we made a bundle of them with
a green sapling, to bring home
Julien thinks of making a chime
I think of carving holes for a flute.

Bill Pfeiffer

Francis: What’s in a name?
Strong and gentle
Macy: Yes, you may see
I am everywhere

Soaring over forests without end
Swimming through oceans whose crystalline health extends to other worlds.
Bringing starlight like Christmas snowflakes to the weary
Awakening the hearts of millions

Now! Having shed a noble skin
Bellow laughing the vibrational fire of Russian masters and Guatama

Looking back through the Oneness, we smile in gratitude
With tears the size of waterfalls.

Betsy Toll

A candle shines softly for you tonight,
a light as soft as love, as warm as an embrace,
gentle as a kiss,
bright as a star.

The acts of goodness
we perform in our lives
are sparkling drops of clear pure water.
Light reflects a million colors through each tiny drop,
and somewhere, in some portion,
some thirst in the world is slaked.

What a gift, then, was Fran Macy’s life,
a remarkable out-pouring gift
of intelligence, insight,
compassion, and love.
A coursing river, a generous,
continuous, healing flow.

May the hearts of all whose lives were touched by Fran
be like buckets, to carry the sweet water of his goodness forward.
May each of our lives bear fruit along that river,
that Fran’s goodness, like a fractal of love,
will multiply, and shine on, and on, and on.

I offer this prayer for your sacred journey, Fran.
May the love that surrounded you all your days
be like the fragrance of spring blossoms to you now,
ever sweet to your spirit as you flow toward the One.

May your essence merge with the Ocean.
May your spirit be free.
May you always and ever know
boundless, spacious, wild, flowing peace.

Pat Fleming

I am with you Joanna
can you feel my arms around you?
a soft human cushion for your head to rest upon

We are all with you now
can you feel our fur?
our feathers, our scales, our mossy flanks,
our rough gritty surfaces,
our wetness, our dryness?
can you hear our hiss and slither
as we join you?
taste our musk and sweet scents?

We are all with you now
a great sea of life
surrounding
cradling your ache
whispering our love for you
whispering our huge appreciation of Fran
that gentle giant
now fallen
whom we love
and loved so dearly
whose loss is immeasurable
whose gifts to me
to us all
are immeasurable

Can you feel us?
for we are here

GENTLE GIANT

Your gentle giant’s heart
finally broke open
spilling out
the whole universe
you carried inside

a wealth of nations
dwelling within you
oh great peacemaker
especially all those Russians
to whom you carried America’s love
respect and listening

you gentle loving giant
you
touched us all
leaving such a playful brushmark
of gorgeous smiling gold