275: Shades of Orpheus, with a nod to Barnes
       

My eyes, the light of our life has been eclipsed,
rather, has ascended to shine in Heaven:
we'll see her there yet, there she waits, and even,
considering our lateness, mourns perhaps.

My ears, angelic words come from her lips
in a place a better hearing is given.
My feet, the one by whom you used to be driven
exists outside the purview of your steps.

Why, then, are you all making war on me?
I didn't blind or deafen you; neither
did I trample hopes for her recovery.

Blame Death—rather, praise Him who frees and tethers,
shuts and opens simultaneously,
and after tears knows how to gladden others.

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Copyright © 2017 Lee Harlin Bahan All rights reserved
from A Year of Mourning
Able Muse Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission