Elegy For Jeanette Poem by Steven Federle

The moment you died
I felt a breeze rise
tussle of wind
wild in the tumult
of transformation.

Nothing is the same.
since your soul
broke through.

My eyes sting
with tears
with grief
with the sharp seeds
of ecstasy.

In the beautiful box
you lay, wrinkled brow
withered hands
pampered
by white silk,
thrall to the embrace
of never ending
grace.

And so I leave you
in this shadowed place.

Gaping and dumb,
I can say nothing
but 'fare thee well,
oh great soul,
and to heaven
quickly flee! '