The Indians once asked how
saying hello I think was their motive
Now I see burning candles - all sizes
tiny - squat - they call them
votive
Why is the curiosity summary
awaiting explanation
from the child
who grows up to salute
a nation
what is for the out-come
or definition
of answers and
recognition
who also - as the owl
who croons while
the evening's quiet
in the midst
and balloons rise
with air so buoyed
and dolls or trucks
are orphans
now that their
owner is
dead
When the quiet is because its owner
has not returned
so it becomes a 'loaner'
to the neighbor or charity
carrying on its legacy
fragile little parts of stuffing
loved inanimate dragons
puffing
and now they go
puff
as the smoke upon the waters
are not but
debris there is
once a part of an inventory list
when that vital person packed up all their
cares (not woes) and moved to their
new home
the precious framed memory of the
NOW THAT WILL BE MISSED....
Who, what, why, how, and the now - precedes
when the time has come to say good-bye
and it was never expected
that a loved one would die
not in the arbitrary due time of nature's course
coined are our phrases, thoughts with never
choice
This does come as a sad surprise
the surprise if our loved one
suddenly
dies
as a result of error; design - carelessness
or evil - a tragedy
unforeseen
tragic always -but with enormous terror
we now must deem it
obscene!
It's insane and anguish that's impossible to define
when or if it's one close to you
or you say
"at least this tragedy isn't mine"...
No? Not yours? Yes, it really is
only if you can shut off your compassion
or shutting out awareness
can you avoid the questions and the quiz?
Delivering some report or letter
struggling to make that widow somehow
feel so much better
or our child died bravely
in service of their flag
concluding that somehow you'll carry a heavy medal
about which you still
can brag?
No one wants to hold anything
other than a living and loving hand
and no one wants to line up in that tribute
with some blaring marching band!
The dismounted mount
absent
and a lonely single horse
bridled; decorated
its gait never off the chartered
course.
Photos - pages turning slowly; tears
dropped on protected pages
each heart - reaching and touching
searching for comforting words
written by poets
and departed sages!
Feeble seem our gestures
yet as feeble as they be
the enormous love and dedication
all show at times of death
their caring is what moves me!
And by the passing of a life
still the spirit of that person is the angel
who continues so alive
reminding others to cherish each day
and to do more than
'just survive'!
This blessed 'tickler' spirit
is on the calendar each hour of every day
helping us to contribute and positively extract
to family, neighbor, and who is living
near
and far away!
Bound still - alive; in some breathing form
memory of that loved one
keeps now
more than just
its small family
warm!
Laughter sings; not only for joy close-by
aching - crying - tired
one - or many now
will sigh
sometimes with relief
sometimes with sorrow
...grief...
Storm - terror - make it
brief!
Let the angels drop petals of belief
because one day we'll become that angel
and we won't be the consoling or loved one
holding
another close
instead we'll have no awareness
so while we can, we spoon up the love
and give it a whopping
'dose'...
filled with sunshine - only we can give as one - unique and single solution
we tell to others while we live
because after we can no longer share a thought
what remains resident
is merely what we've taught!
Tiny mortal teacher
without title or certificate
don't set any watch or mark on the calendar
any date you've set
when you took your first breath
and cried
somewhere on this earth,
another person died
and only people matter; living creatures - flowers - trees
nodding while babies slumber
and there is no need to count the hair
there is no need to 'number'....
there's no tally sheet - nothing to delete; or deplete
just be certain that everything is
replete
only the opportunity to participate
make great each and every day
you greet
and even if you don't shake the hands of Father-Time
or set down your recall
with any reason or rhyme
your smile and kindness makes its mark in history
when you become another's loved one - another
memory
if no one could remember
or hear that tree that fell
history still would record it
and only time will tell
what is the sound of Time's voice
has anyone ever heard it
no doubt it's heard inside
those silent while
they fondly reminisce
About the angel's kiss they miss.
So make certain that the kiss
they miss
is imparted - be it by action
some gesture of
thoughtful selection
pile them on with true affection.
Make certain that later they have an ample supply
be sure you've wrapped up packages of hugs -
just in case you die
Wrapped up affection; packages of 'arms-around'
...likes 'bows' of living ribbons
as the 'ends' flutter in the wind.
Now you've wrapped up all your cares
that ends those woes
so the numbers really will count
and when news of that bitter end
brings another message
and you have to send
the numbers that died;
the numbers that mattered
be careful how you carry them
so no more lives are
shattered
like the glass - the splinters; and as they weep
with unbearable hurt
Help them with your loving words as they dry their
eyes on your favorite shirt!
IN MEMORY OF THOSE THAT DIED IN THE TWA FLIGHT #800
