In Memoriam

In Remembrance of a lost friend.

TRINITY CHURCH 

I went into the church.
It was not as I remembered it.
Cold, it used to be, and dark, and serious.

Walked to the near front, drew forth a stool, 
and knelt,
Leaned forward,
my hands clasped,
and wept.

Was it the cross suspended over the altar
my grandmother bought in Damascus?    
    It hangs there still, unrelenting.
Or the stained glass that reminded me of
ages past - in Roma or Firenze,
Or the transparent faces of the Chapel where my daughter sang in the college choir.

I wept -
For the times I could not weep.
For what I am and what I've left behind.

And I felt a thousand hands upon my shoulders
Lift away.

And then I prayed.
For those I loved, and those I could not hold
in my heart.
For the sweet, gentle smile of a baby
who clung to me in the dark.
For a man who saw me in the light,
and did not blink.

I prayed for the strength
I know I have too much of.
I prayed for understanding.

And then the tears ceased.
No more questions left to ask,
but then, no need for answers,
and I left 
smiling.

Pam Adrian August 22, 1995