A Widow’s Lamentation
I awoke and you were gone.
What has become of my husband?
Til death do us part.
Your father married us.
Death broke our vows.
Your family claimed you.
They came.
They took you away.
They told your story.
They cried their tears.
Far from my eyes and ears.
What has become of my Beloved one?
Was there a funeral before your body burned?
Were there prayers?
I never heard them.
What has become of you, my only love?
Ashes stuffed in a plastic box.
Ashes placed in a bank.
Money in the bank you then become, my beloved husband, the father of my sons.
What has become of my lover?
I brought you home, cradled in my arms.
Your warmth turned cold.
Your embrace a fading memory.
No bigger than a tiny baby, you are now, my beloved one.
Where are you now, oh my husband?
My priests prayed over you,
Blessed your urn.
Our sons wept.
The wind blew icy cold on St. Patrick’s day.
Down along the mountain ridges.
Down along the sighing trees.
To your place in holy ground.
What has become of us, my dearest one?
Across the land I wept my tears, oh my beloved.
Across the waves, along Iona’s shores, a pebble tossed.
A love remembered.
Along the road, your song is played.
Strings are tightened, the guitarist bows.
Wild wind.
Blue Montana skies.
Ride upon the breath of God.
Notes fade, the curtain falls.
Where are you, my beloved?
Night falls I reach for you
My bed is empty.
And yours?
A quiet grave,
a simple stone.
What will become of me, oh my beloved?
A candle burns.
The prayers are done.
Light another,
Another for you, oh my husband
and one for me.