E.K. Caldwell

(1954-1997)

The Fire Continues
In Memory of E.K. Caldwell

A headache one day,
pain and a bright light behind her eyes
as if the Creator had touched her forehead.
Was it warning for her to seek help.
this one who thought so often
of others before herself?
Or was it just to hint to her
that she would soon leave behind
hurts she had grown used to in this life
where she always found vision
that lifted her above such pain
the way an eagle’s wings can lift
its sight above the highest mountain?
The phone call came, like far too many
in this year of departures, a voice made thin
by distance and loss: Kim died last night,
And then those thoughts —
How can it be so?
How can we all go on without her?
An inventory formed in my mind,
how she never turned aside from work,
how her voice was always the first to speak
in praise of others or to share with the children,
how she added music to our lives,
always lent her strength when another was weak.
It is no wonder that eagles soared
and whales rose to sing
on that day when her ashes
dances with the waves.
And now her feet have reached the sky trail.
From the top of that mountain,
tall beyond breath or sight,
she looks back with love,
then turns to join those gone before.
We have her name, we have the words
she wrote for us, the stories and poems
and songs that touch us
as Grandmother Moon
touches calm listening water.
And that reflection
of her full, gentle life must be enough
though we wanted more.