the angel of death
she flies in the spring
she smoothed your furrowed brow
with a brush of her wing
together you soared on a final exhale
pierced the sky
and transcended the veil
were you the owl last night in the garden?
insistently hooting
and offering pardon?
Then into electric thunderstorms
and by morning light
you were fully transformed
your pieces spiraled gently back to the earth
like cherry blossom petals fresh with rebirth
my heart at once broken
but also relieved
earned passage upon
the good ship bereaved
I'll see you in every fluttering wing
and roses pink with thorns that sting
when brush takes water and pigment to paper
when ocean waves crash
and send up their vapor
in wind chimes that tinkle to summer's breeze
in everything living and true if you please
the angel of death
she flies in the spring
and takes you to heaven on her supple wing
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| Mom with my two sisters...years before my birth |