“Hey, we missed you – is everything still fine?
Your pew-spots vacant – all else was sublime.
I hope you don’t with query take offense
It’s worse not knowing – sitting on the fence.”
How nice, indeed, you noticed we weren’t there
Your group, to me, is great – beyond compare –
That openness we found when first arrived
Is what I notice makes your home-group thrive.
To mom, whose memory now is under strain
It means so much to in your thoughts remain.
She speaks of how ‘they say hello each week’
And how she in your memories fondly keep.
It seems that when our memory no more lurks
We’re more aware how other people’s works;
And how they use what memory they have still –
Their words, in love, remembering, if you will.
The ancient Hebrews thought of earth between
The water down below which rose as spring
And water up, high overhead in dome –
The sky’s cool rain on scorching heat of home.
Maybe they learned, by diving in the sea
That life beneath the surface threat could be
Felt lungs would burst as struggled for the top
Broke surface, gasped, thanked God for what he’d wrought.
For when they wrote of God’s creative week
Saw light come first so they could plainly see;
Then envelope twix water up and down
So they could breathe, refreshed, yet still not drown.
What we no longer have we most respect
Like air when swimming – thanks we don’t neglect;
Or cool refreshing spring in desert’s heat
A cause to celebrate with all we meet.
Just so with memory, now that it is gone
Your use of it – it carries mom along.
It’s noticed more, just as with swimmer’s air
As cool refreshingness of those who care.