A farewell poem for my mother-in-law, Helga, before her death in 1998. May she rest in peace.

From "The Sting Of The Gadfly," 2005, LifeVest Publishing, Centennial, Colorado, pp. 89-90

Where has the River wandered
from the banks where I once stood?
I can hear reports cascading
down beyond the hill and wood.
Roaring torrents tumbling onward,
bending earth beneath its will.
Far away and far away,
the River courses onward still.

From the shadows of the mountains
through the basins to the sea,
never ceasing flows the River,
rolling on from you and me.
Blinding sunlit sparkling fountains,
dancing rapids, forceful falls;
unrelenting repetition,
onward still the River calls.

Strong and silent streams of silver
snakes slip slowly from its source,
flowing freely from Foundation's flood
and fraught with form and force.
Radiant ribbons rend the rocks in
rushing rivulets and rills;
calling cadence from Creation,
cries the River to me still.

Swept away and swept away,
the River winds beyond my sight.
It is time for me to say goodbye
before the dusk yields night.
As my tears wash to the River
and you pass into its flow,
may the words, "I love you, Mother,"
soothe your sorrow as you go.

As I stood beside the River
and I waved across the span,
and I marveled at the distance
of the void from God to Man,
in my ears resounding echoes
as we said our last goodbye;
still the River calling on, move on,
and someday so must I.