Light from Darkness

I thought of something funny today and went to call you.

Since you're so newly gone, abruptly gone, I forgot

for one gift of a minute, the way I can't in night's long hours.

It's new to me since you're the first of us to go. Dad, at 98, says 

you learn to handle it after more and more deaths of loved ones, but 

I haven't mastered that detachment that doesn't succumb to

grief, doesn't get squeezed by grief's tight band,

doesn't wish for one more chance to say what I worry 

you didn't know: that I love you and miss you. Just that. Instead, 
I must trust you have peace, that you've gone from the formless dark

of death to the light described by poets and saints.


For Open Link Monday at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads.