Funeral

In a pandemic

funerals are gardens to observe the harvest of grief,

a proper burial,

a stone of remembrance to carry forward our suffering,

our joined novitiate

in the hope of a reunion feast

After serving them through hospice

my first service

to shepherd a bereaved family 

and offer faithful witness,

the sacramental privilege of a pastor

A man large with laughter, joy, stature

a veteran

lost to cancer after years of courage;

his wife stands poised, proud

honorable in the weight of love she carries

Eight chairs distanced graveside

only the family gathered, masked

a granddaughter with the virus watches by FaceTime

the folding of the flag by military officers

a simple liturgy of prayer and song

siblings lay roses on the casket

The morning is adorned in sun-warmth

and hospitality of fall air;

my wife and I are taken in with gratitude

to share a corridor of space

graced by eloquent silence,

the presence of loss beckoned by Communion

Death’s arrival lifts the senses

and suspends our pretense;

we remember who we are absent shackles:

light travelers

wayfarers interwoven

we belong to the brightest plot,

a day of chastened fulfillments 

Image: Transcendence by Richard Mayhew