*( written 5 yrs ago with another of my family’s Patriarch’s Passing)
It was three days
And three nights
Before he could rise again.
Death invites itself
Long before we receive
Its invitation.
The Soul with grace
And poise
Accepts the moment.
Who then is preoccupied
With judgement
Of this one;
Of this mist
That is dried by the sun
And returns as the pond?
The passage
Is insignificant
If balance has been achieved.
Only the witnesses
Are important
As another soul is freed.