Before It Becomes Too Late

Death, be not unkind.
Do not hold her long in your embrace.
Do not cause more pain by her unwanted continuance of this life.
I know that transition is inevitable, though I grieve
To think of her departure.

Suffering in the vacuum of her absence,
I shall not mourn, lest my mourning hinder the flight
of her soul.

But, hold just a while that I may talk with her.
That I may say the things I should have said:
Of her courage; of the void she has filled in my life;
Of my love for her. Why do we wait to say
The things we should have said.

What? I have said those things before, you say?
Surely not. Surely, not enough times.
I fear she does not know.
You say I delay conclusion? Yes, if I could.

Reluctantly, I let go of her soul that it may fly
Like a fragment of dawn, reflecting upon the face
Of the Waters.

As an impassioned phrase from some familiar
Line of verse that touches one's heart, a majestic
Quiescence moves across her face. Deep sleep.

The closure of this sojourn is now complete.

poem by Lynn W. Petty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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