Life eternalized

Today is the last day of April. April 30, 2020.

It is also the last day of National Poetry Writing Month.

What a month to celebrate poetry. Thirty days (and more) of social distancing and worry and uncertainty. Thirty days of poems.

So I did it. A poem—or at least a draft—and blog each of the thirty days. Poetry journeyed with me through these uncertain days and will continue to be a traveling companion as April showers bring May flowers. . .


I went to see her new headstone
and the gate was open, just a crack.
Did someone sneak in

or out—

Cement kings and queens,
knights and pawns too
plot a resurrection
of memories in repose
Grandpa wearing his best Sunday suit
Ephremia Myers lying down
next to her only child
(born September 6, 1885,
died October 4, 1991)
Uncle Lock and Aunt Mary
side by side
they always were—

I turn to leave,
muddy handprints
—dust to dust—
on my jeans
marked by remembering
mama is at rest

Or is she—

I key in the number to
Lady’s Funeral Home:
“There’s no death date
on my mother’s tombstone.
What should I do?”

What indeed?

I smiled.
She did too—I think.

Life eternal—


On the occasion of a graveside service, Spring 2020.

Sometimes the sea calls to us,
reaches out,
slips back,
calls out again,
never far away.

Sometimes love calls to us,
whispers to our hearts,
dances away with our spirits,
calls out again
never far away

Sometimes duty calls to us
sets our course
wounds our plans
calls out again
never far away

Sometimes music calls to us
delights our ears
fades into the mist
calls out again
never far away

Sometimes death calls to us
invites grief
carries away pain
calls out again
never far away

Always, God calls to us
sends a Comforter
holds our hearts
calls out again
never far away