Posts
What shall we expect as we fall into this life?
We can't foresee, having never known
(or else forgotten)
a universe of snowflake designs
or the reflection of trees and sky
in the puddle that collects in a pot-hole.
Nor can we predict,
as we fall, fall into life,
the pain of loss
assuaged, though only partly,
by gain of goodness seen
or sense of love
or simply beauty's insistent intrusion
into sadness.
The night of my sister's memorial service,
the gathering of friends at her house
(still "her" house)
streamed out the front door onto Lafayette Street
to gaze, faces raised,
at the cloud-filled Colorado sky.
The moon was bright as all get-out,
and the wind whipped those clouds
with an energy
that could only have been hers.
So there we were:
Beauty's bounty in the midst
of our loss,
making it better,
making it worse.
No comments:
Post a Comment