Death loves life so much it takes it
leaving we the living weeping over love’s death.
the living say let it wait.
And to those who wait for us there, who have eternity as their alarm clock
and the light of heaven as their canopy
we regret they won’t be here for supper. On this birthday on this day of death.
It keeps us alive.
Too loved to ever die their tombstones should say with a sigh as soft as the dying light
losing its grip on the horizon.
Her fingertips pressing hard, blood red, thinning to pink
until letting go and falling into the night.
you lay next to the name of your Father on his burial ground.
And he’s there
in your heart and mind
and in your pockets where you warm your fingers
as I feel my Dad
see him winking at me from a distant star that has slipped into the sky.