What Heaven Holds

      Last week we went to Fairview cemetery to decorate Tracy's grave for Christmas. I don't know how long we will keep this tradition, but it helps the winter bleakness a bit to know a wreath and lights rest near where his body does. It was at least partly sunny when we left Kalispell for our unwelcome task, but as we approached the cemetery, we drove into clouds, snow, and the wind that frequents the foothills. I had many things in mind to tell Tracy about, but the clouds and wind blew them from my mind. I did not even take a picture. I'm not sure I want to remember that day. Nor had I planned to write a poem about the event, but I was challenged by a fellow writer to match him poem for poem, and this was the result. 

 What Heaven Holds

 

I stand beside your resting place,

though snow and wind have not the grace

to grant me fleeting favor to

be still, while I spend time with you.

 

I know you don't reside in there

beneath dead grass and frigid air,

 yet when I'm here, I like to stop

to talk, as if we're catching up. 

But not today, when skies are gray

and wind weaves its irreverent sway,

to dance around the gravestones

from elderly to newborns.

 

I cannot tell how much you know

of happenings on this earth below,

the Bible says but little, by design.

Yet at your grave I use the time

 

to share the mundane matters of

the place and people that you love.

I do not need to hear from you

to know what you might say or do.

 

No earthly force can ever touch

the soul of him I love so much.

The winter wind blows bleak and cold 

but cannot reach what heaven holds.

12/22/24