Could he make his partition in peace?
Could he learn to find rest in release?
Like Hezekiah after a word from Isaiah he sets his affairs in order,
before he crosses back to his border,
He lets the rift be filled with a gift,
rather than driving away with an empty drift.

Letting go is like death,
A funeral one has to attend,
but after the mourning comes a joy,
a promise of new beginnings,
He chose not to cremate what he hoped to stay alive but he buried it gently with some petals to soften the scars rather than to let bitterness and disappointment prolong his pain.
Freedom will find him one day,
He counts it all as loss again.