Post by hundredwords on Mar 18, 2006 11:45:56 GMT -5
As I calmly watch the blackness close in, a smile crosses my lips, a thought across my mind. No more will I have to see the pain, no more will I cry for loved ones who went home before me. No more will I morn or worry. God’s love now takes me from the deep pit of evil, like a white speck among the masses of black.
I watch from a gentle perch as they buried my old shell, tears and wailing baffling me as it so often did in life. I wish I could call out to my loved ones that I feel no pain that I am home now. But instead I take on the likeness of a mourning dove and perch on my mother’s shoulder, a silent consoling; her heart no doubt in un-mend-able pieces.
I coo once then take my quiet leave, my mother knowing that I am safe once again. As my mother and father grow old and gray, my brothers reaching their prime. Coming of age is the most tiresome age to be, I should know, I was once again too. They gather their cuts and scrapes, their broken hearts and bruises, but I still watch after them, keeping evil at bay.
Soon the two boys I once knew as brothers marry wives of glorious stature, they children like sweet angels on earth; just starting their long walk home. I watch and wait at the gate as my parents join me, their faces all aglow. Now we watch, as birds among many, waiting for the rest of our family to cross death from the foreign land to home. We watch as more and more of our loved ones join us, glad that they were not swayed from the way.
I rejoice as friends come home, no mourning is seen but from the foolish and love sick on earth. I do not morn for then leaving to a better place, going the same paths I have walked, or crawled. Rejoice, the saints have come home.
I watch from a gentle perch as they buried my old shell, tears and wailing baffling me as it so often did in life. I wish I could call out to my loved ones that I feel no pain that I am home now. But instead I take on the likeness of a mourning dove and perch on my mother’s shoulder, a silent consoling; her heart no doubt in un-mend-able pieces.
I coo once then take my quiet leave, my mother knowing that I am safe once again. As my mother and father grow old and gray, my brothers reaching their prime. Coming of age is the most tiresome age to be, I should know, I was once again too. They gather their cuts and scrapes, their broken hearts and bruises, but I still watch after them, keeping evil at bay.
Soon the two boys I once knew as brothers marry wives of glorious stature, they children like sweet angels on earth; just starting their long walk home. I watch and wait at the gate as my parents join me, their faces all aglow. Now we watch, as birds among many, waiting for the rest of our family to cross death from the foreign land to home. We watch as more and more of our loved ones join us, glad that they were not swayed from the way.
I rejoice as friends come home, no mourning is seen but from the foolish and love sick on earth. I do not morn for then leaving to a better place, going the same paths I have walked, or crawled. Rejoice, the saints have come home.