Margaret Emeline Miller

Our world dimmed the day Margaret passed to spirit. Margaret (Margie) was an incredible human being with an extraordinary soul; Margarets' brilliant spirit continues to fill the universe with love and compassion. Her beautiful energy touched all creation and will do so for eternity. We are so blessed to have walked this earthly path with her; in our greatest joys and most profound sorrows, we know she will be with us, continuing to love each of us in her unique way- unconditionally, without judgement, and in gratitude for the love we shared. Margaret leaves an empty space in our hearts and will be lovingly remembered by: Her sister and brother Lee and Laughie - spouse Stanya; her niece and nephews Jo-Anne - spouse Steve; Michael and Sebastian. Cherished Auntie to her many special grand-nieces and nephews. Margaret will join her dear predeceased grand-niece, Stephanie. We know you are together, laughing and dancing amongst the stars! She will also be deeply missed by her many friends and extended family. Margaret was a gifted writer, and the family would like to share one of her many writings: PASSAGE DREAMING Dreams, dreamers, dreamed. White Clouds sanskrit across the sky, multiply. Philosophy challenged, begged, opportuned, language among the ruins of tomorrow. Alive on top the stream. Blue waters raging through. Life lived in awe of light dropping fall, today’s return to awl, ages, past, wooden works, fields gone to fallow days. Sunsets lost to shrunken eyes, peeping through torn curtains dirt encrusted windows streaking view. Rivers raging tide, lost behind dykes of safe, grasses lunging in the wind, accent trees fallen. Valleys’ mould etched to hide, hills reduced to nothing, forests shrunken. Cast to graveyard, laying deep, giant maple stayed to sleep, Host encrusted stones to hide, the names of their ancestors. Ocean passages to land, wearing cold the stone, gulls in glory flock to sea the remnants of her born. tearing flesh apart, bones laid on the sandy shore, to bleach relentless sun. What cost this blood to flow, pumping, flowing, screaming, ages far ago. The silo strong to sky, darkened by rain and fields of gold, darkened so strong so tall. The pain in veins so tight. The flories illusioned in darkest night. Red brick warmed in low sun glaze, seeping vapors of long-lost days, muffled voices inside the clay. Whitewashed wood, curling heat, footsteps echo within deep, deep rooms. Echoes, echoed, stilling late, rose bushes scratching pale, willows washing grounds unkempt, to footsteps of frozen sleep. Dreams, dreamers, dreamed. Margaret Miller