Beyond and between the lean-edged clichés of faith,
when the harsh hand of death has separated us
from the one we loved
and the last taste of breath has faded from their lips;
Above and below the stripped out bits of hope,
when much of what we thought we know
twists in the grip of children’s questions;
When all of the easy answers dip and dodge
like dancers in the fray of swaying notes;
know this: there still is love.
Love that lives on,
love that clings to choking memories,
love that sings and sobs its way through bitter tears,
love that draws us close to those who linger near,
unsure of what to say or how to say it
yet knowing we need to hear our hearts speaking.
Love that sustains us through the deepest fears,
the darkest years,
love that never leaves,
love that wraps itself around the numbest places,
love that lives in the lives of those it touched,
who needed so much—and received it.
And in their faces we still see the reflection
of the one we lost,
whose life and love reminds us
that faith is longer than life,
stronger than death,
and that hope will rise in wings of light
when all of night is passed into glorious day.
And in that Day,
we will see once again,
every face that we have ever loved,
and know that love will never end.