DM Babbit Poet Elegy

Mourning Thoughts

MOURNING THOUGHTS

There it is, done now.

That quiet exasperation of living,
   over with a single breath,
   a last, long struggled sigh.
The angels heard it, shared it
   but no, not I.

I stepped away a moment, fearing a teary eyed 
   goodbye.
The final curtain, lost in silent obscurity
   drew to a close, without me.

Each of us, we die alone,
   some hanging on the goodbyes,
   others anxiously ready to go,
   but nevertheless -
     always alone.

There it is then,
   done, finite, final.

Not possible!

This life, these lives are more
   then withered, frail bodies of clay.

These lives and souls,
   they were joy and love, laughter and hope;
   they were struggles and voices and pain and dreams;
   they were living, loving, loved!

Through this life, this heart, this soul moves on -
   those lives are more than memory,
   more than passing thoughts.

Those lives were, are, heart and soul
   of who we are,
   and of who -
   we may yet be without them,
   because of them.

Until tomorrow then
   when every soul is before God,
and as this soul, struggles for prayer
   and continues on the path of living and being
until that day, 
   when there is no more of this life,
 and every life,
   joins with the heart of God

I'll mourn.

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