after death


There is mercy on the wings of a dove.
Alight! O Love, with peace to spare
darkened, cold, wintry plight.
How do eyes sunken in despair
see outward to jeweled sunrise
and know the hope of a new day?
There is joy inside, steeping –
ready to infuse all cells
with new life.
Just one drop of blood, one glance,
one touch of a hem,
gathers centuries of wandering –
wondering if my eyes should
ever meet the guardian eyes of God.
I can learn from others
who stubbornly plodded on
through one painful trial after another.
Diligent, or insane.

Can’t you see it is reasonable
to know Love is the cornerstone
binding the east and west wind
in a perfect crimson crease?
O cleave my soul with ancient ones
whose eyes serve as windows to where
I may look –
upon the Alpha and the renewal
of time with breath instilled
on silken skin no longer
writhing in tumult
but turning toward a new
daybreak of an age after death.

(c) 2016-2017 rick stassi