Kaddish

KADDISH

The shovel hit a stone,
and my eyes were bathed
in gray dawn.

From my porch
I could hear the murmers;
this man was a saint,
a stranger to drink,
whose lips never
snarled
or blasphemed;
a man cut down
like young wheat.

Damn the Grim Reaper,
one said,
and most of the very silent
black-hooded mourners
were already
staring blankly
at distant treetops,
at clouds,
as the fresh clods of earth
grew cold.

Laughing,
I could see the roulette wheel
whirling,
and the little red ball
hovering
over an infinite number
of slots,
only to drop into one
at random;
or not.

LaterI mused,
bathed in twilight,
enchanted with a dusty brown moth
fluttering near
the orange porchlight,
and the high twittering staccato
of its thin wings,
seemed to whisper;
Jump not too quickly
into the eternity of night,
but when you do,
be aware
that there is nothing to fear
about Nature's transition.

A soul is eternal,
and it just shifts dimensions,
and our precious consciousness
transitions with it;
from wood to smoke
the energy of our spirit
just shape-shifts,
and continues its journey.

So I decided to rejoice
when the insects in the night
and feathered things in the air
made music;
for even a faithless man
can recognize the God
within,
and learn
from every tragedy and joy
showered upon him.


Glenn Buttkus 1997