sees, except the Power that called them there.
Where the sound is hushed to a silent river of tears,
to share in the afterglow of new birth, or rejoice
in the celebrations of life’s afterthoughts,
hindsights of forgiveness, sunlight of love,
paper moons of peace.
Oh yes, the prophetic voice sings along, with and for.
What is left unsung in the music of the spirit
of one lying there, perhaps breathless at the tempo
of the last notes?
What is the meaning of life for him, for her,
for the ones still in the circle, or for those who
had already left?
Two worlds, one soul, many souls, giving,
receiving, painful at times here.
But the joy is in the offing, an eternal promise,
still here, already there, not yet.
Stay in your dwelling in the desert, where all is
shed for the heart of the matter. Where to be
barren is grace; fullness, an overflowing gift.
Isabelita Q. Boquiren, BCC