R.I.P. Clinton Eugene Jarvis
~My father ~

The saguaro an altar
A tree stump a pew
He knelt in the garden
His church all that grew.

Cactus and succulent
Tenderly grown
Were all in his choir
For his ears alone.

From aisles of stone walkways
Stained glass in bright clouds
The sun was his mantle
The stars are his shroud

The lakes holy water
As a child he'd haunt
Skipping stones 'cross a pond
Like a Baptismal Font

Sat he 'neath the willows
To hear their prayer's sigh
The saguaro an altar

His Cathedral the sky.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 5/31/2018

Let me take the pieces of you
and put them into one place
for you to ponder.
I cannot put them together for you.
As you know,
only you can do that.
But I can show you
that you haven’t lost as much love
as you perhaps believe,
and that the pieces
I would give to you,
if you would have them,
would eclipse
the dark moons of the past
and reveal to you
the bright suns
of a future.