This morning I share with you two poems by two very special people. The first was written by Arthur Washburn for Forrest; the second was written by Forrest for Art. For those of you had the grand pleasure of knowing or even meeting Art, I think the splendid power, passion and beauty of these words will speak for themselves. Enjoy!
To Sing A Song
Take the whole earth into your arms
the way you did when you were born.
Let your love for this wondrous earth
bloom from your soul, just as the sun
spreads its warmth to surround this land.
Play a secret game with the trees;
ask the shadows to weave a cloak
so that you may become disguised,
to wander as a troubadour,
a lyric poet appointed
to sing outrageous, authentic
songs to the animals and plants.
Dip your cup into the fragrant
spring bubbling forth from the timeless
cleft in the moss-covered granite;
drink a toast, as blessing to earth.
Art Washburn, January 2009
By Forrest Getz
I felt, still feel,
Lucky to have known,
Been taken under wing,
Lead to aspire,
By this great old man.
His stance odd,
Hunched over as if carrying a mighty load – a burden from the years,
That always remained unnoticeable, yet still a defining aspect
To those unknowing it could be a distraction,
For him, it was mere addition of character:
As he put humbly, akin to the turtle.
But rather he was the red-tailed hawk that he too admired,
The distinguished voice echoing across the valley in the power of his words;
His great respect, dignity and passion for life,
Love for work and those who shared the same -
Giving him a far greater presence, aura
The grace of a bird in flight.
Life lived to its fullest – he was a prime example of that,
A soul free to soar, follow his dreams,
Help others, through work and word
A beloved peer in our small community of writers,
Someone I could ask for thoughts and ideas,
And be granted the same role -
encouraged to soar alongside, rather than in the shadow
Where I felt I belonged…
He moved forward with certainty and confidence,
Onto the stage I was so lucky to share,
Where his presence and words resounded;
Those were the traits I so admired – creativity, humility -
Still held as goals to someday acheive.
But life like the winds,
It ebbs and flows like the tides,
Just as it has before and always will -
But here in the moment
This loss comes like a cold knife,
Cutting through any bonds with no remorse
It is only us who feel the stab.
He was a mentor,
Poet, friend – role model;
He was the example of doing more; living a richer life,
To me, he was a carrier of ideas and principles –
Like the hawk atop the tallest tree,
keeping watch upon those of us still taking flight
And still I know that the same iridescent wings
Will carry him to even greater heights.