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Out of Mourning
A tale out of season is as music in mourning.
- Ecclesiasticus 22:6
Mourners weep music
while the dead in Christ still sleep,
yet you clap your hands,
lean to me and then whisper
softly a story
that death has reminded you.
Your cat greets your hand,
walking to it, expecting
a customary,
yet firm touch to forget life.
But when you tell me
how your cat acts on his back
when your same hand comes
to him, I do not blame him
for the scratches on
your wrist. Instead I applaud,
make my way forward
to bless the bride of Christ with
a customary,
yet firm touch to forget life.
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Poetry: Death
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