Monday, August 3, 2009

Ordinary Point


Ordinary Point

She was a typical young
girl, it said in the paper,
who loved music and
dancing, but her love
for the Lord was
unusual for someone
her age, a wake
tossing her body
from a power boat
into the river where
my husband and I
now sail.

Surely, then, she is
in heaven, with her Savior;
surely, then, we have
no right to grieve.

But it is hard not to notice
the heavier cadence in the
movement of the river,
blues tinted more by grey,
and the sun making its
final splash, leaving us
in the dark.

2 comments:

  1. Lovely, melancholy. I enjoyed the shape of the poem on the page and how it reflects the interior of the narrative. Thank you.

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  2. thanks so much for reading, Christine.

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