For Helen

I've spent the last few days since your death, reading the notes and poems you gave to me, Helen.  When I  was first lead to Word Weavers, it was your kindness and your eloquent words that became a light ahead for me.  Those things never changed or wavered through the years.  You are one of the best poets I have ever known, truly.  Your words never ceased to amaze me.  However, it was your encouragement and faith in me that ultimately became so priceless.  We have had such good times together, all of us.  Though I miss you now painfully, I know that your journey continues.  I'm sure there are many more wonderfully beautiful things to write about where you are, and somehow I'm sure you will do that.

I could go on with memories and lists of the things you taught me.  But those things will stay in my heart.  It seems fitting that I let your own words express it here.  I love you, Helen.  You will be so missed.

In memory of Helen Keith Beaman, mentor and friend

Largo

 . . if something does flash before your eyes
as you go under, it will probably be a fish . . .
             --Billy Collins' The Art of Drowning

No matter the cause, death turns
its telescope toward your life.
That flash of scenes embracing
all experience is possible,

not that life speeds up,
but perception expands time,
transforms your puddle
into an ocean.  Waves wash

against memory, lapping
each grain of life, catching
its irridescence the way
a single speck of sand collects

the sunlight, prisms it into shattered
colors.  Seen through water, moments
magnify.  Details of your days
dance before your eyes

in languorous legato, the Largo
that sings you home as you slip
through the fissures in the web
that veils eternity.  You see

through stretched awareness
and do not miss the silver
flash of fish that slides
before your drowning eyes.

            --Helen Keith Beaman
               from her book "Edges Disappear"