FOR IRENE
Do not look back, Irene do not turn and gaze at our inn at the end of the world where you served so hard a term:
Do not look back at our lake fringed with feathery bullrushes, attended by moorhens at our green spaces of gaudy bejewelled dew, our mighty grandiose protecting trees.
Do not look back at us, though we loved you and felt your pain fretted for your bound spirit, cased in shadows when light had left you.
Irene,once the creator of beauty around you setting stitches in fine cloths, embroidering the silks of heaven, searching for the perfect, healing and comforting as you met our confusions and distractions.
You have crossed the sparkling river; you have walkd the bridge, it is behind you: Let heaven's own silken chariot take you up, Rest against the embroidered cushions of creation travel through earth and water, fire and air dropping the years, the pains ,the indignities.
Reach the rainbow and rest, it is yours to play with. Forget us until we reach you, laughing.
© Asphodel P. Long 2001
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