I wrote your obituary today
spun from hearts of gold
the slow art in molding clay
lines of ink pull the string
connects the energy unseen
now a box sewn complete
at the point of a needle
enamored in a reach to trace
the memory of your face
stretched as far as I inspire
hope drops me like an anchor
guards the safe shore
the dark inside cold waters deliver
shroud a heart in despair
fury is born to breathe the open air
move unfailing, the current in a river
drowning my calls for the dead
with closed eyes and a lowered head
my whispers are a mothers prayer
asking redemption and more
to look beyond heaven's door


Terry D'Arcy-Ryan