LAST LEAF FALLING

I.

A bit rough around the edges
Said Love

With tears
And a quivering voice

Like the fields he farmed

The soil that felt his footfall

Strong and straight
Loyal

Not easy then with
Weakness in another

Vulnerability became him
As with surprising grace
He himself surrendered

Allowing us a glimpse
Of something more tender

Faith-filled

Praying his way Homeward
With an eye for the frailest
Left behind

II.

He is laid to rest now
In this land that he loved

A calm November day
Sun shining, birds singing

Breeze blowing
Bough of trees bending

River flowing
Rainbow in a clear
Blue sky

Last leaf falling
Whistling in the wind

In this place there is
Peace

(In memory of Fr. Roger Rafter sac)

THIS AGEING GRIEF

i

Some people are great

At telling you how

To grieve 

Or not

Not this long anyway 

Only the Swan

Of the damaged wing

And attentive eye

Would ever allow this

Length of time 

These years

But she allows it

This ageing grief

That will not

Let go completely 

For that would mean

Forgetting

And forgetting is not

Allowed

ii

It is easier now 

Less harrowing
Not even dramatic

But its approach
Brings a sudden
Change of mood

Tears prickling
The edge of my eye

Pent up breath
Shuddering in my breast

Memory of that day
The preceding days

Last deeds done
Final words spoken

Not knowing
They were last or final

Memory of that day
When word of death broke in
So suddenly to rob us

Summoning us from
Our varied normalities

Drawing us in
To its abnormal achievement

No consolation
Ever will avail
This side of heaven

And if there is a certain peace
It is the deep silence
Of God at Golgatha

LOVE CRIES

Love cries

Because it loves

Its tears selfish

And not selfish at all

It cannot bear absence

Not loving the one

For whom it would

Give its whole life

If it could be measured

It would have

The length and depth

Of tears

Floods and Oceans

For Love is water

In all its shapes

And temperament

And when I die

Do not put sweet words

On my lips

I will not say

That I am only gone

To the next room

I will not ask you

Not to cry

I should not tell you

Anything about how

You should grieve

But if I would

I should ask you to cry

And cry as you must

Until the time for letting go

And I would ask for the flowers

Of your garden

Cascading their fragrance

Like incense all around

About us as testament

To our loneliness and loving

The loving that is perfected

In all its expressions