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At Her Death-Bed (RGAaPoet)
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2014-12-10
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AT HER DEATH-BED RGAaPoet@aol.com
(In Memoriam: for Eugenie, my mother)
Her honey-coloured cheeks, grown pale with death,
Cold to my touch like a dew-wetted stone --
Their beauty faded, aged, lacking breath,
Were scrolls of skin draped loosely over bone.
In wracking pain, I knelt beside the bed
On which she lay in death's eternal night,
And wept a flood of tears about her head,
While moths droned mournfully in candle-light,
And shadows grieved like sorrows on the floor,
And voices swelled within the outer room
In elegies and hymns unheard before.
In humble love, I made my heart her tomb ...
And grateful tongues composed her epitaphs
With simple, heart-felt words that glowed with praise.
Kind strangers craned through windows like giraffes,
Then murmuring sadly, went their separate ways;
And through the pall of grief, I seemed to hear
A soft voice saying: "My child, do not weep.
Your mother always had been kind and fair
To everyone! Her love was rooted deep
In understanding, and she was so dear
In always being there with a helping hand;
She's earned a place in Heaven; have no fear.
Someday, you'll meet her in a better land."
I whispered "Amen." to the halcyon voice
That stilled the storm of sorrows in my heart.
Around the lights, the moths seemed to rejoice.
In me, a song of gladness strove to start --
And in the room, her spirit seemed to stir.
The clock ticked time's eclipse, but not for her.
Copyright (c) 1960, 1980, 1995 by Ronald G. Auguste