The wind blows the curtain through my fingers.
Soft and silky,like her gray hair, it caresses and
Presses for a firmer grasp,
So as not to let it slip away.
The smell of the hearth , permeates the air with pine and sage.
I hold her firm against my breast and kiss the now old brow ,
Acknowledging an end to an era of mirth , strength,
Sadness, fear and agony of spirit.
She lived well, strong and sweet and left the essence of her life
Etched in the eyes and souls of all who knew her.
Hail to thee great spirit of life and liberty!
Hail to thee oh soul of wisdom, humbleness, grace and creativity!
Upon a white feather pillow, I lay down her head
And let her spirit fly through the open window, taking with her
The silky curtains, pressing for a firmer grasp, to permit the
Mapping of her journey into eternal life.