Lasting respects (a sestina)

The father once again has come to mourn
And offer prayers to speed her soul's ascent.
He mutters invocations as he bows
His head and stares directly at the ground
Oblivious to wind and whirling leaves
 He reminisces as it starts to rain.

Quite soft at first, it sprinkles the terrain
And summons mist that lingers in the morn
And hovers over browning grass and leaves
Olfactory remembrances, a scent
He smelled that day they laid her in the ground
Beneath the poplar's overhanging boughs.

Remembering the eulogy, he bows
His head and thinks how God will come to reign
While lives that should have lasted long are ground    
Like pebbles into dust and parents mourn
While all the while still nodding their assent
Their loved one flies to heaven as she leaves.

His shiny shoes now covered with dead leaves
Beneath the poplar's overhanging boughs
He can not but resent what fate has sent
But as a man, he has been taught to rein
In his emotions, and to never mourn
In public, and be strong, and hold his ground.

He feels like he is sinking in the ground
That each time that he visits her he leaves
A part of him that stays behind to mourn
Beneath the poplar's overhanging boughs
Oblivious to chilly wind and rain.
He takes small comfort in her soul's ascent

But gives to God what God to him has sent.
At times he envies those beneath the ground
Forever sheltered from that somber reign
Of drenching sorrow which holds sway and leaves
The living lingering beneath the boughs
Of poplar trees upon a misty morn.

The sun's ascent declares the end of morn
And towards the soggy ground the father bows
The rain has stopped, a single rose he leaves.

 © September 13, 2004 by Allan M. Heller