they moved haltingly in the quiet of the church
for to approach his soul
as if drawn there by some ancient magnetism
born before breath
they wore raiments freighted with grief
his body raised upon a catafalque
they held prayer books
and they held them close
like travelers hold a guide book
to the past
there were flowers every colour
also a priest
he spake words of comfort
they alone could read the interstices of his life
like the pages of a book they had written together
they touched his casket one by one and withdrew their persons in sadness
then replevened their hands as if connected by some subtle lead
later he walked through the blazing sunlight streaming
through the trees
like the torrents of spring
he had said his goodbyes
Flynnpoetry 