The Resurrection Leaf

 

A poem about how grief sometimes listens, finds faith in hope, and love that refuses to accept final silence. 

Where it doesn’t just deny pain but leans toward resurrection rather than ending.

Title.

The Resurrection Leaf.

(A lone voice whispers)

Every time I hear your sweet voice recorded on old videotapes. I die inside quietly as I hear that familiar sound.

That all my spirit guides hold me upright to stop me from falling on Heaven's wet ground. As watching angels gather all around.

And just like the falling of a single autumn leaf. I always hear your calling, even though it's faint and brief.

Calling me in sacred rhymes to look out for divinely sent signs.

So like priests worshipping at their holy shrines with all their faithful power down through time.

I always, too pray, one day to climb to reach the heavenly meadows beyond God's angelic towers.

To once more walk with you through all its beautiful blooming pink and blue flowers.

To reach a place where no autumn leaves fall, and I no longer faintly, briefly hear your sweetly whispered celestial call.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy.