birds refused to halt

Birds refused to halt

The birds refused to halt the day you died.

The rays held tightly to the mountain range,
slinging the sun across the horizon in a celestial somersault,
irreverent as laughter at your funeral.

Mourners prayed to the heavens
to direct the upward flow of your soul, but you
tip-toed through the tearful clusters like a sneaky child,
reveling in your new-found freedom.

You never were one to obey the forces of nature,
or the social niceties of man.

Why do proper mourners believe they must wail at the loss of you,
as if the tenor of their lament was a fair tribute to your worth?

Like a giggle beneath my somber shell, your flame flickers
inside the souls of all who treasured you for your imperfections,
not simply your contributions.

Give me your flicker any day to their public displays of anguish. 

If they knew you, they would understand that to honor you is to fly,
un-tethered, even in rain and wind, and to laugh, especially then.

Birds refused to halt their flight the day you died
and I couldn’t help but smile at their irreverence.

They knew you well.


SWPoet

Dedicated to my great-grandmother who died on Valentine's Day (1997), ironic as she generally disliked men.  She did have a wry sense of humor.  (see "When Life Gives You Chicken Livers"-also in the memoir folder for more about this funny and only slightly sarcastic woman.)

(Original version below. )


birds refused to halt

birds refused to halt their flight
the day you died

the rays held tightly, slinging the sun
in a somersault across the horizon,
like laughter at your funeral 

mourners prayed for gravity
to stall the drift of your soul, and you,
like the mist, silently rolled
past grieving clusters of loved ones,
off and away to unseen adventures, you,
never one to obey the forces of nature

somewhere, your light remains inside
of the ones you've touched,
like a giggle beneath the somber surface that is I,
while some feel they must wail with loss of you
as if the sound of this lament coincides
with your value here on earth

my friend, I will take your flicker any day
to the silent cries of anguish 
and may the birds and I remember
that to honor you is to fly, untethered,
amid wings and wind