Season Over

I cannot see it, yet I believe it as fact: Death has swallowed me, it’s no victory but the sting of it impales my soul with grief Doubt, we are told is an instrumental part of faith we can suspend it or embrace it as it knocks on the door our souls seeking, no demanding entry into our lives That which is unseen invades my sense of life as the unseen pandemic of the time squeezes the very life out of the one who gave to me life and unconditional love I cannot see it, yet I know it as a fact Death is consuming my mother and this victory is so hollow How can a life of great strength plus six be taken by the ignorance of others celebrating their lives at sea returning with an evil load Does that defy our understanding? Have you no shame? Do you not care? From one ward to another in the place of healing the unseen spread taking from the most vulnerable each breath of joy that was left to share Death is swallowed up in victory Where, O death, is your sting? The leaves of autumn fall around in golden hues that remind me of my mother’s hair gracefully lining the ground with a carpet of mulch that will, in time, bring new life in the coming spring The hope of life to come is dormant now but will soon be seen as a mad monk from a different time of plague once observed: there is resurrection written on every new leaf of spring Death, you may claim a victory but the sting of what is to be is still to come I cannot see it, but I know it is there That I believe and in faith, hope and love Together with my doubt I long for the first bud to be on my tree A tree of life, not death A tree of rest, nor torment A tree of folly that causes many to stumble and few to believe Death may claim its victory but this season is cancelled no points to be given Season over