A Journey from Waiting to Death

On the curving path
Head bowed down, gray
Measuring his footsteps, weak
He sees his sons
Climbing trees... chasing squirrels
And his daughters
Garlanding... Dancing... on the breeze
Crowns on their heads
Wands in their hands
And with this divine vision
Part of dust he becomes...

Dressed to the nines
Standing in the window
She is looking out for the glow
that will light up her life
Every approaching light
Makes the lake shimmer
It seems her own, her own kin
But approaches and passes by, it does
Soon the glass hurdle before her
turns to nothingness, and
The lake shimmers with her reflection
Deep inside of it...

The sky is frolicking
Playing games with him,
Darkening up a few steps ahead
And then lightening back down
The thirst of his green
and his brawn
Ascends and descends
But nothing relinquishes
Until the sky weeps
endless tears of blessing, and
He's flowing with the waters...

Her five innocent years
Shine in her eyes
The smile gradually edges
On her helpless, afflicted self
As she eyes the golden wrap
in the hands of another child
She waits for her archangel
His promise of happiness
And her very own gold
Her eyes move to the distant road
And part of dust she becomes...

(August 18, 2010)