from Dead Mentors
Part Two, Chapter 1: “The Antiquity”
I imagined Sophia’s return to Florida like that of a migratory bird. I often saw her that way, drifting from Florida to Peterborough and back as if guided by the angle of the sun, a snowbird from Canada, a tropical bird from Florida, trying to find the light. The duality of Sophia’s nature was a delightful mix of seasoning and sensing, a veritable astrological configuration of Libra’s balanced scales. What is lovliest and typical of the Libran’s preference is the slight tilt of equilibrium–they are never too far to one side and never directly in the middle. Extremes are never tolerated by the Libran, including stark symmetry. To know them is to be utterly confused by them.
Mother and Moon
The forest that rests deep inside Victoria Park is my favorite
place in the city of Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island.
Th e stillness there unwinds my tangled thoughts. In September,
the path is laced with color, beckoning the weariest of dispositions
to take heed of the park’s aged splendor. It is the humbling power
of nature’s silence that grants its authority over my senses like the
Wise Old Woman of Sophia’s dreams. I am a visitor of minute
awareness amidst its solemn grace and unspeakable beauty. To
ponder, even briefly, to begin to take note consciously amid such
elegant simplicity is an act of dishonor. It is there for the senses
only, for the deep roots of life’s core to silence human triviality.
Th ere are many such places on a quiet island, places where nature
is salvaged. Each one is a depiction of change and growth and
death, displayed with blatant disregard for human frailty. My
walks in Victoria Park paid homage to nature itself, not to my
From “Dead Mentors” Fifth Chapter, Mother and Moon