I was with this old, beautiful, God-loving lady from our church as she died yesterday. It was sacred time and I was honored to be there. I'm not much of a poet, but I came home and wrote this:
Rosie:
head back, mouth open;
dry, shell of a body.
Breath shallow, not even a puddle;
pulse faint, slowing down to
nothing.
But
Something
beats stronger than heart and blood and
Something, as the breath dies,
lives and resurrects and
re-creates and makes everything
Rosy.
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1 comment:
My family and I were with my Grandmother when she died five years ago and I’ve wanted to write about that moment ever since.
I believe now, I may not feel that need. Thank you for this beautiful poem.
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