For the last two nights, the winds in Manchester have howled like a desert storm on the floor of Arabia. An hour ago I received a telephone call from Tricia. My friend and co-writer Liz Ward passed away this morning, approximately 11:30 a.m. if I have the timing right, in California with her family and a close friend in the hospital room with her, her daughter Tricia holding her hand.
A very dear Muslim friend of mine in Saudi Arabia sent me a message yesterday I wish to share: “My dear friend, I am here listening. Your sad soul reached me and we are sharing the sad moments which will come and go like the wind does. Death can be a release, my friend, a door into a real freedom and real peace. We are all going to follow her, Insha’allah, and sadness can help us to get new strength.”
Indeed. I am sad and am filled with deep feelings, all of which will feed something much greater than myself. Private and public messages and thoughts have given Liz, this family, and me strength and comfort. I am grateful to many people including ’strangers’ for being part of a circle of friendship, love, and compassion.
I have no words
for you today
I have no heart
to give away
I have no answers
they won’t come
I am just here
mute and numb
A simple soul
upon this earth
I sing my songs
for all they’re worth
I thought we had it
by the tail
But now I know
how small and frail…
The world is
I am
we are.
Minute by minute
near and far
we’re just fading, cascading
like the falling stars
and in a blaze of glory
it’s a small, sad story…
The world is
I am
we are.
Beautiful…why don’t we get it?
Beautiful…why don’t we get it?
(Solo.)
The world is
I am
we are.
Minute by minute
near and far
we’re just fading, cascading
like the falling stars.
In a blaze of glory
it is our story…
The world is
I am
we are
beautiful
beautiful.
(This was something I wrote at the invitation of a peer to share the prayer on my lips…words would not come.)
