To
Those Who Grieve the Death of a Poet
If you dream you are a star
More than a grain of dirt
Declare your poems to be
More than teaspoons of water
Dropped into a raving sea
You are more a fool
Than language has named you.
You worry death to death.
Your encrypted bones
Can, should you let them,
Lead you to bless the body
With the balm of love.
Recall. Spirit speaks
Echoes in the canyons of mind:
Struggle. Nothing
has ended
Change. Struggle. No peace arrived.
Struggle until
the end. The end
Qualifies you
with death
To mourn and bury the dead.
Jerry W. Ward,
Jr. January 16, 2014
