Who reposes
peacefully
on this bed –
her ancient
wrinkled face
sealed by the
Great Presence,
receiving
the last kiss
of sunlight’s
golden glow?
Who owns those
care-worn hands
gnarled, precious,
lovingly
clasped to her
family’s
tear-stained cheeks –
then gently,
tenderly
tucked beneath
the rainbow
counterpane?
I know her –
I know them –
do I not?
Who is this
Brilliant
Guardian
with piercing
gaze veiled to
all present
in this room,
except me?
My Angel.
Protector.
Solemn.
Shining.
Silent.
Shadows flee.
It is time.
He takes my hand.
His wings unfurl.
I am ready
to soar.
I am ready
to cross
Jordan.