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March 29, 2007

Speaking Of Death
by michael johnson

Speaking of death-
mother, Edith, at 98
in a nursing home
blinded with
macular degeneration,
crippled in pain,
drowning in pills,
I come to you,
blurred eyes, crystal mind,
countenance of grace,
as yesterday's winds
I have consumed you
& taken you away.
Death hides, but doesn't divide.
"Where did God disappear to"-
she murmured
over & over again
like running water
or low voices
in prayer:
"Oh, there He is.
Angel of the coming."
Death hides, but doesn't divide.
Ê