The Price Of Parting

Will they be there for you when you die?
Will they hold your hands and cry until you’ve breathed
your last? Is it too much to ask? While love is free
in tearful task the price of parting wears
a mask of pain which none would feign
to gladly greet. Yet love abed with death is said
to ease the way to timeless bliss, but just
for those departing. Or would you rather
quiet instead, the dignity of night and sleep
alone abed, no waking dreams? It seems
the beggar’s choice; a route into the wilderness,
departure lounge without the crowd.
And then there are the grieving scenes
that follow in your wake, you’ve gone beyond
the reach of mind, crossed the vague
and tacit line into a deep of endless sleep.
Your light has been extinguished yet
the light that fires your heirs burns bright
to bode the leaving of your flight.
© I.D. Carswell