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In the Church, I met a woman quite old,
Bending under the weight of years.
I wonder what made her steal my attention. 
Was it her struggle to hold back her tears?

Despite her frail stooping figure
She seemed to have an indomitable will.
Defeating all infirmities of age, she stood,
With a face though sad, yet tranquil and still.

Strange enough, she recalled to me,
The determined but decrepit old man beside the pool
Who Wordsworth had once encountered,
Gathering leeches so scarce, but resolute and cool

I watched the woman humbly prostrate,
And feebly rise and straighten her aged form,
Surrendering herself at the feet of God,
Imploring grace for life’s little tasks to perform.

In her gnarled hands, she firmly held a prayer book,
With the other supporting her frail figure on a staff,
And with a sigh of relief, she left the church,
As if her afflictions were reduced to half.

As the Congregation dispersed in all directions
She feebly walked to her accustomed haunt.
At the rear side of the church was a Cemetery unkempt, 
Where the ancestors slept, devoid of earthly cares and want.

Among all the tombstones in marble and granite
Erected in memory of the kindred dead,
There was a newly dug up grave,
That stood aloof as a heap of mud.

I watched the old woman approach this spot,
Where she knelt down with a calm demeanor.
Her withered hands clasped together in piety,
And her eyes closed in silent prayer.

With a convulsive motion of her lips
She rose and once more knelt down,
As if searching for a face so dear
Whose memory she could never ever drown.

Within that mound, slept her only son,
Who died in his prime, a month before,
Leaving his widowed mother behind,
To brave the shafts stinging, so sore.

As Time by seconds and minutes ticked away
The bereaved mother stood up at last,
And heavily yet quietly walked away,
Leaving the one who was once her own part. 

In sadness, her faith sheds light in her cloistered heart
She has a calm assurance that though her son is gone, 
In another realm, free from all tribulations and pain
He walks immortal in radiant bliss in the light of dawn!

April. 4. 2023

~ Placed Fifth~

Death of a Loved One Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Unseeking Seeker
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