In memory
of what once was
silently stands
the sarcophagus,
a stone symbol,
a noble tribute
to life's end,
a final salute
bold and mute.
Yet as it stands
the spirit lives
and thus commands
respect for both
the life that was
and the stoic
sarcophagus.

Set my sights
silent prayers
peace through Christ
crucified
heaven above
lived and died
love begets love
hope unfolds
for all time
story told.

My soaring heart
stays not on earth,
heaven bound
in death and birth,
grace, mercy,
and glory be
lift my heart
outside of me
above emotions
of the day
to the place
where hearts
should stay.

Vespers whisper
perfect peace
silent alms
never cease,
soft candle flames
offer death
the light of mercy
with God's breath.
The cathedral beckons
us all by name
to enter humbly
without shame
through open doors
that reach inside
for all the tears
we never cried.

The silence of
noisy words
flies through my head
like wingless birds
with no flight plan
they come to land
upon my page
no longer caged.
Alone they stand.

The weight of death
spoke to me
and everything
I want to be
and everything
I want to see
will someday
just be history.
But I never seem
to care enough
to shed myself
of earthly stuff,
and though this truth
is ages old,
unlike the body
does not grow cold.
Therein lies the
eternal key
the balance of
God's gravity.

Life is ours to create,
to complain or celebrate,
reject the silence and the wait,
make things happen
in spite of fate.