On Viewing the Corpse of My Mother-In-Law
[Please note: while this poem may seem harsh, my mother-in-law did much good in her long life, more than I expect I have. It was prompted by the 'shock' that death has the power to take even those with the fiercest of wills.]
How could this...thing have been her?
Lying shriveled and small on the bed,
as those who loved (and feared) her
gathered in the bereft hospital room
to let their shock and grief melt and
mold itself into its own atmosphere....
Her body seemed never to have been real,
never to have been a woman,
never to have been young once, and surely,
never to have been a mother....
And if it had been a body once,
housing a small dragon who could lash out fire
solely with her harsh and brutal tongue,
keeping those who loved her at bay and
the rest of us wary, aware of her power,
her terrible gift that seemed to shrink your soul--
then where did she go when her mouth froze open
as the last breath of a long life left quietly,
silently, without fuss or rancor...?
Still, though imperfect as you or I,
she was loved, mourned, honored....
If God only housed saints,
think how terribly lonely He would be.
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