The air is heavy with the fragrant blooms
And the suffering of the ones left behind.
Whispering voices express concern, sadness
And the guilty relief that it is someone else
Who has passed.
The organist plays dirges
Gracefully turning pages
The widow sobs, fearful of her next page.
Alone in the crowd
Each participant ponders the mysteries
Of life, death, resurrection.
Voices join in the remembered prayer
“Our Father, Who art in heaven …”
Mouthing the words
While hearts search for faith in the debris of death.
All eyes are on the pastor
Who answers the question all are asking:
Why would God take our friend so young?
Hope swells through the congregation
Awaiting the words from the messenger.
He smiles, and in a voice filled with passion says:
“God didn’t take him, my friends,
God received him.”
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All the best Sage