for the dying and the living
unspoken words
undone plans
unfinished heart work
we cry because of these unfinished memories
we cry for ourselves
and for what we imagine our loved one left, wanting
sometimes we laugh
for some bittersweet memory--a sudden recalling
of a funny story can easily be followed
by a flood of tears
and the inconvenience of death surfaces again
we wanted them
to see us graduate
see our weddings, our children
our new car, our business
and yet, somehow, mysteriously
death can be so timely
the cessation of struggle, of pain
the reality that rips our facades
and forces us to the truth
The catalyst to redemption
and reconciliation
The force that makes us count every moment
preacious, every word sacred,
in its luminous presence
death is timely and convenient--
forcing us from our mortal lives,
toward the divine impulse
that makes us hope for a future
even in the finality of its presence
but we give death its due regard, but that is all.
For in our hearts we testify--by our memories
and our tenacious love for our friends gone on---
that death is not the final force, nor the final word.
© Valerie Bridgeman
May 14, 2013
Tuesday poem posted on Wednesday (late... sigh)
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