A Farewell Tear
a feast of friendship
a story of betrayal
a memory of gifts
given
you look with such
intense love
on each one
gathered there,
mist covers your deep
brown eyes
as you hold each one
in your gaze,
you close your eyes
and I see
the farewell tear of
friendship
as it follows the
curve of your cheek.
you take the bread,
bless it gently,
profoundly,
with old words and
new.
(do you mean to say
it is yourself?)
and then the wine,
again with words old
and new.
(do you mean to say
this, too,
is now yourself?)
you look again at
each one there
and give the eternal
gift:
"remember me and
do the same."
like those around the
table then,
so with us who gather
now,
if we knew how close
our hearts
are held inside of
yours,
we would always be
amazed
that you meant this
for us, too.
how shall we ever be
brave enough
to do what you have
done,
when grief engulfs
our every breath
and each memorial
word
is laden with our
loss?
joyce rupp
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