Oklahoma Poets: Leah S. Taylor

Leah, during our 2011 philosophical summit. It appears we have reached the dessert course and are doing just fine. Sending you my love, Leah...RDK

Editor’s note: I now have an annual ritual, having completed it three years in a row.  During the week between Christmas and New Years, I meet with my former mentor, Dr. Leah Taylor, and my current neighbor, Lisa Red.  We talk about the year, waxing philosophical about the ground we’ve covered. Then we talk about the next year, waxing philosophical about the ground we hope to tread.  During our most recent meal, Leah shared that her brother was ailing.  It seems now, however, that he is near Death’s door.  When Leah feels the need to love someone very deeply, one of her ways is by writing them a poem.  She’s agreed to share the two poems she has written to support her brother in his process of dying.  One waxes philosophical about the ground from where he came, and one about the higher ground to where he is soon going. ~ [kelly]

To My Brother

You were a young boy

Your mother’s lap your own

Her loneliness your wound

Her universe your home

Now all the moons and stars

That know you in your story

Are thankful in their sending

For giving them their glory

You are healed, my brother

Love will sweep you into grace

As spirits come to join you

In the journey you now face

I have seen the shining sky

Without the cloud of pain

Display the wonder of your life

In winds without the rain

The sound of peace is calling

In your mother’s voice adrift

In the cadence of the many

To whom you gave your gift

Rest now, my brother,

You need not fear the night

I have slept upon your pillow

Where the dark becomes the light.

Leah S. Taylor




Half in this world,

half in the next,

I dreamed you were

both host and guest.

I dreamed you moved

beyond the word,

fallen deep inside,

dancing into time and space

with your spirit-guide.

I dreamed you argued with

the angels whom

you would belong.

They were telling you

that they were right;

you told them they were wrong.

If you have quarreled

with your gods,

alone and out of place,

come visit me,


kiss me softly on my face.


                                      Leah S. Taylor



End note ~ Leah is a published author and poet.  She grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio and Tulsa, Oklahoma.   Her family is Jewish and her father was a judge in Tulsa for many years.  The stories she was part of during a very discriminatory time in our State’s history need to be told as well.  I hope we can do that soon.