Intermission

 Intermission

 

What better than a star,

a light to show the way

of lost and lonely,

a gathering of spirit into cluster,

a zenith of the very breath of life

while we are waiting

on that gathering of souls?

What better than a star,

to wait upon the family reunion;

wait with those who’ve gone beyond,

out there into the deepest blue

of God’s forever,

to keep a watchful eye

on us below

 . . . we, who wait to sparkle

in his love?

Could it be that stars

which can’t be numbered,

are watchmen, clad in luminous array;

that tonight a new star sparkles

in the vaporous Milky Way

with someone snatched

from terra firma glory

or freed

from all its terra firma pain?

Are constellations only families of spirit

in gowns that billow,

soft as cirrus clouds,

embroidered

with the rich brocade of gold;

fashioned by the archangels of heaven;

woven of each lightly wafting word

and garlanded with love we gave away?

What better than a star,

with imperfections,

during intermission of two lives?

Joy Stalvey Barefoot

 

 

 

 

(This was originally written when my Mother died but has been shared with others)