POETRY - THOUGHTS AFTER A FUNERAL

(Image: Sunrise over misty trees)

(For RT)

Funeral.

The elderly linger, but then leave us swiftly,

in a breath, a heartbeat, so close to death were they

when they lived here on Earth.

Reminiscences.

Impressions, taches of colour like a painting,

some bright, others subdued; mixing hubris with pathos,

both eulogy and lament appear on this canvas.

Tears.

Trying to wash our grief away, in vain. Let it linger and

wait for joy to arise in our hearts, where all tears begin.

For the eyes are the overflow of the heart.

Readings.

The best poetry comes from the mystics, like John, who knows

the Way, to speak of profound depths in few words. Touching

the depths before it disturbs the surface.

Universe.

It is the law of the Universe. What is? Resurrection. Nothing

is wasted, it is simply transformed, re-formed into something

new. Without weary flesh, or heavy heart.

Death.

Is how we see this, from this side of the veil? We could use

a different word to speak of transformation. Because? Because,

we still see this as the end and not the end of the beginning.

Life.

Deep calls unto deep, and Life calls unto Life. Death is overcome

with our first breath. Persistent in its ways, always finding a

Way to show us gentle paths; our loss is merely a catalyst.

To their greater Life.

Rejoice, therefore.

Rejoice.

The end is not the end, for this frail flesh wears away so easily.

Because? Because, we are made for the gentlest of touches,

a caress, not the rough chafing of grief. Gentleness? Yes, the

gentleness of the Divine caress.

This then is our, ‘in the beginning’ moment...

Geoff Hall