(For Wilbur Howie Sr. and all whose passing is grace.)
Much of culture demands we fight,
tooth and nail against going,
denying that we’re even moving in that direction,
color for the fading hair,
tucks and injections for the sags and wrinkles.
Fight whatever comes our way
with whatever we can arm ourselves:
radical surgery, medicine; harsh treatment, equipment;
all ways to deny journey’s inevitability,
pretending we can park indefinitely.
There is another way to travel,
not so much upstream always,
not eternally against traffic’s flow,
but putting up our sail and
letting breath blow us where it will.
A toast to all who find the grace
to tread gingerly upon the earth,
softly upon other lives so that
breathing comes as if from Spirit,
flowers bloom at every turn.
Going gently toward the place
where earth gives way to garden,
where hope is planted, not buried,
where time stretches into eternity
and living yields willingly to life.
© 2011 Todd Jenkins
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