Poem: The Ones Left Behind

Holy Water

The Ones Left Behind

Death surrounds me,
and with it, intimate companions,
grief, guilt, pain, loss, anger,
hovering in the air like ghosts.

There are no words,
no magic ritual of healing and exorcism.
There is only time,
and presence.

About this poem

It is Memorial Day.

I did a funeral last week. I have another coming up Friday.

So death and loss is in the air around me right now. And most striking, and most important to me, is care of those left behind.

The picture was taken in Venice.



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