The Funeral

Saskatchewan Landing sunset

Her heart is a sinking sun,

pooling patches of dried blood

on a canvas thickening

with yesterday’s paint. Tucked in

rich velvet and laid to rest

(open to public viewing)

she mourns its passing, pressing

treasured lines of scrawled script to

lips of stone, epitaph carved in

lieu of flowers. Rays of light,

the glory days of holding

and being held, protrude from

memories slashed through the frayed

places where sky meets casket’s

edge. The sun will rise again

but not today, not until

a thousand tomorrows have

burned to ashes, cremation’s

signature on cloud-sealed urn.

 

Child of Light

morning glow frosted pine

Child of Light,

we’re frozen here –

smeared with blight,

not Christmas cheer;

Shine Your star

into dark hearts,

draw us where

true healing starts.

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For the beautiful children of Connecticut – we miss you already…