NSMForMax

For Max

For Max Sullivan Maisel
1994 - 2015
There is some reality that is much larger and more complex than we are
able to perceive. (And yet) Poets perceive multiple dimensions within a
single perception – reality as it truly is. “When two systems interact and
their energies intermingle – once the systems separate, something of each
remains in the other, leaving the two connected within the quantum
realm.”* nsm
*Kandiah,Krish. Paradoxology.2015.

Particles Unobserved
Winter white-on-white
obscures the hesitant
horizon
where earth and sky
and lake dissolve
Shadow children
move in single file
in and out and
in-between
the silhouettes
of guardian trees
Summer laughter
sweeps the swings
against
the pillowed mounds
of snow
while
halfway to belief
a solitary frozen
flag is trembling
in a minor key
Danger!
Ice is dressed
to lure you in
nsm 2/20/15

II
The hooded figure
looms above
antarctic steppes
attentive to
the wailing wolf
marooned
beyond
compassion
She never sleeps
Her eyes are
charcoal embers
blown to life
by piercing winds
like laser beams
skimming off
our fears
We barely
hear her breathe
and yet
our tiny ones
are wrapped
in primitive
cocoons
she knits
with icy
needles
nsm 2/21/15

Paradox
Max
Is still
The smooth
Slim stone
I skim
Across
The brimming
Moments
In my days
The ripples
On the surface
Travel outwards
Til they finally
Disappear
Somewhere
Out there
In space
Unmeasured
Unexplored
Undiscovered
And yet
Some other day
I'll wait again
For just another
Brimming moment
Just another
Smooth slim stone.
NSM, March 2015

Max Sullivan Maisel
January 15, 1994
February 22, 2015

“Only For So Short a While
Have You Loaned Us to Each Other”
Remembering Max
Processional…………… “Morning Has Broken”
Welcome……………… Father Daley
An Aztec Prayer……… Nancy Sullivan Murray
The extensive Murray and Maisel families want
to thank you for the warm thoughts and deep
concern that have embraced us through this
difficult period. We will remember and celebrate
Max through every season of the years ahead.
“His Eye is on the Sparrow”
……………………………. Twiggy Meshele Eure
Remembering Max….. Clare Murray Volo
Singing Bowls………..Gail Aiken and Edie Stanton
“The Peace of Wild Things”
……………………………. Eileen Murray
Reflective Music……… Linda Griffin
Kaddish Prayer………. Robert Druger M.D.
Please join us for lunch in the Parish Center,
provided by “Caring Hands,” a ministry of All
Saints Parish Community. While the Parish
Center is not handicapped accessible, we will be
happy to help those who require assistance
navigating its stairways. There will be a few
tables at street level.
“Litany of Peace” ….Choral Voices & Congregation
Zen Poem………………. Clare Murray Volo
“Imagine”………………. Sydni Noelle Eure
Closing remarks…… Nancy Sullivan Murray
Final Blessing Father Daley
Recessional
“On Eagles’ Wings”

Sept. 1st: A-Fib started around 7:30 and progressed in
speed til call to 911, ambulance, the whole shebang.
Admitted 2 a.m., released 10 a.m. on Sept. 2nd.
Sept 3rd: Decided after b'fast that I needed to see my
spirit animal so we went to the zoo around noon: temp, 95
f. All creatures were sleeping or hiding under rocks, trees,
etc.
Eileen had put a borrowed wheel chair in the trunk that I
gladly occupied. We took the walkway at a slow pace til
we reached our destination - the tiger preserve, the
artificial domain of my spirit creature, the female Siberian
tiger.
Try to picture the setting. We are on an elevated section of
the zoo walk, so we're about 2 stories above the grounds

of the preserve; the area is made of a series of rocky cliffs,
paths, walls and flat boulders. There's a movie-size
window where we're standing to observe the whole
setting.
SHE is asleep on the terrain at ground level. I knock
quietly on the window. "It's me. I see you. I've come and I
need to see you."
She wakes, gets up and starts the long climb on the rocky
path up and along the interior wall; up and up, padding on
mitten-shaped furry paws: up and up. SHE comes to the
flat rock right in front of me and flops down. I'm almost
speechless but I knock softly, "i'm right here. I see you. I
need to see your face."
SHE just lies there (see photo) and I'm talking and
tapping... Eileen has her camera clicking. SHE lifts her
head and turns to look over her right shoulder. I see her
right eye and that whole side of her face for maybe a
minute or even less; then she puts it down and stretches
out on the rock.
Words can't capture what was going on within me. We just
stand still for another minute and then, "Lets go home," I
say to Eileen.
The next day, Friday, the 1st two verses of a poem come
up and out and down on paper. Saturday, we go to our
cabin in Canada.

Brendan hands me a small piece of a bone from Max.
Together, John and I drop it into Charleston lake; I read 2
verses out loud.
Monday Sept. 6th, Tuesday Sept. 7th: staying very quiet
the whole time; images come and go; the words appear
and settle on the page; there are no changes, no
corrections: it's "Unfinished," as is Max and his story.
I didn't share it with Meg&Ivan til yesterday - when I sent it
to myself by mistake (?). Meg replied, "It's a lovely poem,
Mom. Leave it as it is."
The End

“Unfinished”
I see you
leaping
off the dock
with your sisters and
the cousin-girls
who bob
like fireflies
sparking up the night
I see you
in your seal-cub
nakedness
slipping easily beneath
the silvery surface
of the lake
I see you
rising up
amid the loons
preparing
for their flight
to places you and they
have never seen
I see you
strolling
with my spirit tiger
designing
ways to stay
untamed
I see you . . .
nsm 9/5/15