Ode to Death
This Easter Monday Pope Francis died.
They say he rose in glory, crowned with grace.
My mother, too, now walks the other side,
Her soul at peace, beyond all time and place.
But I was not there when the prophets flew,
When Enoch vanished, taken in his stride.
Nor saw Elijah rise into the sky,
Nor Christ ascend where faith and hope reside.
I watch the faithful buried in the dust,
And those cremated, ashes stay on earth.
No fire, no wind, no bright ascension thrust—
Just silence, soil, and ashes’ quiet worth.
O Death, I’ve known you well, and know you stay:
You take us all, the righteous and the stray.
Three related poems from the archive:
The Poor Man on a White Donkey
I Dreamt About Life After Death
Related article from Wikipedia: