Prairie grass bending under the weight of new snow;
March does, indeed, come in like a lion.
A bitterness has soaked into this frozen ground.
that awaits the body
of my friend
of my family
of my heart broken by the loss
of the sound
of his voice
A voice I listened to and loved for 19 years
his coffee
his laughter
his jokes and
his quiet way of being
...Clayton
My husband's uncle,
my friend and compadre
loved and beloved...
Yes, a bitterness has soaked into this frozen ground
it is a unforgiving chill
the winds that started blowing when his wake began
and did not relent until he was laid beneath the soil that gives life and accepts readily
what is void of life
his spirit long gone but always the body remains
that last remnant
a shred of a life well lived
for the family to cling to
as they suffer the loss
of that spirit.
Something to look at
something to mourn over
something to pray over
for that light
that was Clayton.
And in his imperfection,
the ultimate grace
And in his quiet ways,
the ultimate grace
and in his beauty
proof God does, in fact, exist.
I love you
I miss you
such bitter winds
should not blow through my soul
until my memory
has had a chance to rest
and Clayton can talk to me
in dreams
and we can again
share a joke
and a strong cup of coffee
and speak of things beautiful and bright
where the bitterness is sweetened
and the loss...
nonexistent.
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