For Ruth, born Irene, in 1933 in Germany.
Today we send your body to the deathless winds:
The hand that held your father’s during walks on Sundays
while the mothers and aunts loaded garden tables with cakes
The blue eyes that searched the deep dark jade of forests
for deer and rabbits, and other trembling, shy lives
The strong legs that smuggled green coffee during wartime
when there was little water, and no heat but the stove
The finger that accepted a wedding ring on Valentineʻs Day,
1952, from a tall man who adored the small you
The ovaries which were the seed of me, and the arms that carried me
through a minefied at dawn when I was two or three
the sun rising to show you the border between death and life
The feet that stepped up to dance to any music
we free them up
The wrist that wore the silver watch that got you to work in time
you queen of the San Antonio waitressing night shift
we free it up
The ears that drank the morning song of desert birds, and also
the songs of Patsy Cline and Luciano Pavoratti
we free them up
The lap that held a thousand fortunate purring cats
we free it up
The mouth that laughed often, and cried rarely
although it had many reasons to
we free it up
The shoulders that refused to bow no matter
what the harsh world tried to load there
we free them up
And the heart, the heart that gave its beat to me
that held so many lost children young and old
this heart we send into the wild air
burdenless finally
And tell you with our love and our voices on this day
which is your bodyʻs last day on earth
that all you were, and were to us
is free to rise.
---
Iʻd like to read a short quote from a book by Brian Doyle in which there was an educated crow:
And Moses the crow lifted up his voice and said unto them:
There are wonders in heaven above
and signs in the earth
and she is raised up
and loosed are the pains of death
and therefore does my heart rejoice
and my tongue is glad
and I rest in hope.
