When One Has Outlived Most Of His Friends
. . . the living and the dead
Young and old, gather where they are brought
Robert Pinsky, “The Garden”
God of passages, the two faces of Janus see only
The past and the future, ignoring for the moment
The moment itself: the two entries of this church
Being both apposite and opposite, the departed
Brought to the rear door, through the sacristy,
And laid to rest in front of the altar, and those
Who are entering from the front and along
The long aisles, gathering in twos and threes
In each row as though each grief were separate
And unshareable. One will speak in resplendent
Words and vestments of faith in what is to come
Each death only makes us doubt, and someone
Will rise and recall the past as though only there
Is the certainty of all we know and can believe in,
Albinoni's Adagio In G Minor, our separate silences,
Praying to be anywhere but the present moment.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2013-08-25 at 16:35
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