Dream no little dreams (from an Indigenous prayer, spoken at the funeral) by Ellen S. Jaffe


Bagpipes play their strange sad lament �
TV lets us see everything without being there:
Olivia�s strained face, baby Beatrice,
the silent surging crowd.

This morning I cleaned my kitchen cupboards,
touched up the orange paint (Colorado Dawn) �
death does this, makes us clean, straighten, see, listen, and touch �
loved ones, flowers, household clutter.

Rise Up � Amazing Grace � Hallelujah �
O Canada, how can we lose this man, who gave a voice to the voiceless,
home to the homeless, a song of hope to people in need �
not a saint, but a very human being.

I regret I did not know you, met you
only once � an NDP meeting � shook your hand,
saw your smile. The political is personal,
the personal political � you knew this by heart.

Now you go from the ordinary world � bike paths,
jam sessions, elections � into the mystic...
Into The Mystic, where we can�t yet follow.
All our love goes with you � love is all
we need to keep your dreams alive.


Ellen S. Jaffe
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