In the middle of it all ~ offering of a poem

I've been thinking of

something I wrote many years ago in my

undergraduate years,

when the woman who was, I see now,

my first spiritual mother,

died...

*

Many of my friends are suffering in ways

that all result in great losses.

I am reprinting this poem I wrote,
for my creative writing class,

in memory of all of these.

****

Upon finding the funeral 


A small girl searches through narrow corridors,
her footsteps whisper without reply.

A door shuts as it opens.
Words of beauty in ashes hang heavy in the air.

Her small frame
bends,
feet dig into the worn stone,
arms pull the handle,
the door unmoved:

the casket still descending.

~ Elizabeth A. R. 1999

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