Gentle Pope
you direct my
life's journey.Your life on this
highway sainted you.
On this hilltop chancel,
you silhouette heaven;
you bow to the east
and praise
the other side
of forever.
You see
a vision up there
that you show to
the world.
Artist,
you
ask yourself
for the meaning of your birth.
Created to tough it out
on your altar to become
the weather-worn gray
you are—you are a Grace,
an Alberta passion;
you fill-in barren land;
you round-out silence;
you create and inspire.
Like the mind of man,
your leaves
have fallen away
so you no longer flutter
in the silver of your time.
We do not want you to go;
we wire your arms in
memory of your greener days.
Your dark shadow casts more thinly
as you sink deeper
into a never-ending sleep,
to be forever lightened
when you flutter anew
in the after-this-world glow of your time. |
