Irresistible

The moon is pasted over in cloud tonight--
my thoughts crouch behind avoiding notice,
secretly hoping to be presented
brought out of hiding with upturned hand--

but wait, it is patience's cue;
she must come first; must always come before;
she and prayer must lead the way into the irresistible.

Dear James

Your death did not make the headlines
but it's all we can talk about here.

Yours was not a single death because death never is single
Layers of people, roles, regrets and sorrow always mix about and crisscross.

Today, when we met with God together, I couldn't say
that we wished you were back with us because then I would
have wept beyond what is reasonable.

I don't know exactly how it's done, this shared suffering, this shouldered up burden but it's here among us and our understanding and our prayers and our lives.

Our praise for your life remains--I want to stretch that praise into a covering, a banner
over your wife and children, over your mother, your sister and brother. It would be a red doorpost, the red scarf of Jericho, the brilliant wedding canopy, and the Passover which is all our hope.