The Last Days and the Days After

On the passing of a colleague's mother

Sleepwalking to make sense of the frailty and helplessness
pitted against the memory of compassionate invincibility,
teetering on the void, trying to be of comfort while searching
glistening grimaces and straight-lipped smiles for the same.

With more bitter than sweet bittersweet finality
that comfort arrives with a new companion; uncertainty.
The void is flooded by trickling droplets of sharp memory
framed by delicate, embroidered remembrance:
Warm, consuming smiles from eyes to lips to soul
Sage advice given unsolicited
Concern provided as freely as exhaled breath
Pride in the accomplishment of having passed on to another
the desire to accomplish.

Lament and release for the left behind;
the end of physical pains and pangs, a Pyrrhic trade
for the sting of the heart and double-edged reminiscence
and lingering questions of going forward without.

Solace for the lost; a good life led and a legacy of love.

And therein, the ability to remember
and cherish and continue and heal and wake.
And I do.

© Jeff Wilson, 2009