"Ninety-Five Young"
Ninety-five years had crossed her face
and filled her mind with wisdom and grace
with a depth that amazed and a wit that twittered
through the softest smile and eyes that glittered.
In moments held with raptured attention
she knew of things I only venture to mention
She shared the history of her generation
She lived by the Master of her Creation.
She would sometimes giggle at the whining of others
She graced each person with love of her brothers
She bestowed true meaning to each family gathering
And was seldom known for useless prattling
There can not be grief when one such as she
crosses over to arms of The Wise one to be
awaiting the others that follow her path
by loving and living and learning to laugh.
The void of her presence, the grace of her smile
will be hard to accept, at least for awhile
But I know she surrendered with longing intent
to pass through The Gate to Home as it's meant.
A Matriach she was, A Matriach she will remain
and until we share that memory lane again........
I love you, Nanny.
"Gone from my Sight"
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the
morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length she hangs
like a speck of white cloud just where the sea
and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"
"Gone Where?"
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side and she is just
as able to bear her load of living freight to her
destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
"There, she is gone!" there are other eyes watching
her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad
shout:"Here she comes!"
And that is dying.
|
