Many years ago when a woman I knew died, I wrote this poem. I didn’t really mean to write it — it just sort of weaseled its way into my head, and I fiddled with it and decided to write it down and share it with others who knew her. Her pastor, a friend of mine, read the poem to her congregation the following Sunday.
She died fairly young, this woman, in her 30s. Nobody saw it coming. She was a sweet person, the kind of woman that everyone likes even if they aren’t particularly close to her.
Anyway, I ran across the poem while looking for something in my files, and decided to share it in the hope that it will provide comfort to someone.
She woke one day with angels’ wings,
“So much of life I did not live!”
Her broken mortal body
lay there, cold.
She held the hand,
a hand not yet grown old.
“Why have you come so soon for me,
I know not why you struck me
with your sword.”
She heard a voice within her head,
“You think my fetching you to me
“Your life on Earth was but a launch
on a voyage that will show you
“I loosed you from your moorings,
set you free,
that you could come
and sail the deeper sea.”
“It but remains
to let your body go,
and open sails
to catch the winds I blow.”
With that the voice grew silent
in her mind.
She gazed upon the body
for a time.
An understanding found her,
by and by.
She spread her wings and raised up
toward the sky.