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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
Death is like a car
That disappears around a curve,
Or like an ancient custom
That we've failed to preserve.
The car continues going
Even though we cannot see,
And the custom just remains
Itself, outside of memory.
Death is a relation
To a certain time and place;
To Eternity it's nothing
In a line of endless grace.
I've loved you all so much
That I've known Eternity,
Vast and never ending
Deep within the thing that's me.
Time is like a river
And love a clear, still lake
That holds the sky within it,
Crystalline and yet opaque.
And I have had that gift
In an abundance that is rare,
With you and with my husband
Who's both gone and everywhere.
I feel the awesome beauty
Of the end of earthly breath.
I've had a rich, full life
And now a peaceful, shining death. |
