THE VIGIL

 

My soul is still,

As silently it stands,

Alone in solitude, beyond the will,

Fortitude fertile, as friendship demands.

 

A sombre sole sarcophagus,

Contains a shell, within a shell,

Lifeless, drained, an empty carcass,

No longer a home in which to dwell.

 

My vigil kept, a single salute,

To mark the hours and days which pass,

When time spent by those astute,

Gave comfort and raised a glass.

 

A toast, a tribute of this life,

To give praise and thanks, while alive,

To show appreciation to husband, or wife,

And to acknowledge a love death will not deprive.

 

My tears borne and shed,

Through trying time and difficult event,

Enriched by thought and paired,

By equal compassion and caring lament.

 

Silence speaks for those who stand,

Eternally the message to resound,

Spoken as by the most eloquent,

An assurance of faith most profound.

 

I bid you well and grant you leave,

This page, at last written in the clouds,

That you may no longer grieve,

But will rise up and blow, as I, with gentle breeze.

 

And in due course you will find,

The bonds of friendship that will bind,

Are not to be left behind,

But will be renewed and shared by all mankind.

 

My spirit, whole, has evolved,

To leave this earth, this world of toil,

To be a beacon in the night and so resolved,

To bring a light to others found in turmoil.

 

Think kindly of me then, for I have fled,

But briefly, though your heart and mind,

May recollect my will and I be remembered,

My love shall stay to comfort and your wounds to bind.