I glance over my shoulder

As eyes, crimson-blue, stung with grief

Attempt an act of camouflage

Hiding from and fighting against

The sympathy of others

But your eyes do not reject

Cannot fight the visible grief

Of his mortifying loss

But observe with me tears of another kind:

Rain drops are falling

Are embodying one precious father

As he becomes the celestial elements

The heavenly bodies

Defying separation, able to touch

And be closer to one precious son.

So never feel alone, never be uncomforted

As beloved love, fused with precious memories

Cling eternal to your side.

Natasha Haidar © 2004