In Memorial

Hilltop In Winter

On a spring day we sat
in wildflowers on a hilltop
blue eyed toddlers played at our feet
highlights silver in your hair, copper in mine
I think the well seasoned, patch quilt
was one your grandmother made

we drank in the sunshine and God's word
that lay open before us
we wept
at the revelation of the beauty of His love
and we laughed
as young women 'oft do, at their little sons
rolling down hills in the high grass

your eyes were blue like the summer sky
mine, green like the spring meadow

your voice was kind, soft
you were a gentle soul, a pure heart
apt to think the best of the worst
I saw the worst too clearly
and was never as gentle as you

perhaps I wanted to own your meekness
and you, may have, desired more of my fire

whatever synonyms or antonyms
we possessed, I always loved you
Katie, Sweet Sister Of My Soul
others sought to invent something soiled
from something sacred,
something hateful from the holy

toddlers grew to be men
I never got to hold your grandchildren, great grandchildren
nor did you get to hold mine
they never played at our feet in spring meadows

and now you lie atop that hill,
winter hastens
to cover your bones with snow
your firstborn son lies there beside you
waiting for the rest of your family
my children will only be memories
never to lie on hilltops beside me
nor to greet me in other lives

do you see me now? do you understand now?
can you think now the best of the worst?
will I look into those cornflower eyes again
see that same love reflected?
hear that familiar soft voice say, “I've missed you”?