To an Earth-Released

Mortality but softly brushed your cheek
And lingered not; for scarcely there did rise
The palest pink of life until your eyes
Had closed again. Now sleep, my baby, sleep.
In one brief love-kissed moment you did keep
Your God-appointed destiny: to rise
In mortal flesh. It matters not your size
Is small. ‘Tis done. Now sleep, my baby, sleep.
Mine is the task to struggle up through time,
To sweat and bleed, to cry loud for surcease;
To urge my mind, my soul, my flesh to climb
The sunlit summit. Wait me there in peace.
I … wisdom-wise, who thought to lead … am led
By you, my child, moved now one step ahead!

For Those Who Mourn

Just one of those quiet, aged sisters
Who touched your soul with her smile;
Slowly, unpretentiously she moved about
Keeping commandments,
She is
Someone’s daughter,
Someone’s mother,
Someone’s wife,
Now a widow,
And few notice her passing.
There is no crowded chapel,
No rippled shock of grief
Through generations of humanity—
Just a quiet, undecorated,
Mildly celebrated
Her obituary notice falls
In yesterday’s
The funeral flowers wilt and
But in the
Heart of heaven
There are kisses on her cheek,
For a cherished spirit has returned,
A prized daughter is crowned,
And I suspect it was such a
Quiet death
Because we could not hear the
Celebration of her

[illustration] “Antelope Island,” by Dennis Phillips