when we have lost you, we struggle to know the loss.
what day to day touches are missed?
whose growth goes unnoticed, whose metamorphosis unsung?
but i wonder too what we miss of you:
if we could follow, would we see you active,
flying, singing, creating, answering?
or a complete, still peace--
would you, indeed, rest well?
or if there is a third option, are you at rest in motion--
a breeze of karma, a night wind over the lake,
a shaft of sunshine between the blinds,
the eddies of sloughed off skin that circle there.
when we have lost you, what have we lost?
and what can we yet glean?