Death

And death
should be undone.
No more the aching cry,
the empty chasm
where goodness once had been.
No shadow bearing down
upon our bright and festal days.
No lowering mist to darken
every birth and morning.
No fear that makes us
hold too hard to every
simple gift
lest it be gone forever.
And when I cry
for my own
dying self.
I do this
to undo death:
I go not to where the ashes
turn again to dirt, to dust,
but to the thorny bush
where roses grow
and life is lit,
for just a little time,
with love.

--Timothy Haut, March 25, 2016