November 1

One big funeral sermon

for all those we name
and honor with a single bell tone
during our prayers,
notes that arrange themselves
in a unique
but awkward arpeggio
a particular order
never to be repeated

And for all the others who’ve left us
who won’t be named
but who
strove and inspire and
failed and lost
and won

And for the wee weeks-old
who begins the journey
still wet
still waking up
and receiving a kiss
from an older sibling
who stretches toward his forehead
to touch her lips just at the place
where the oil has made a cross

And for the daughter who explores a new Bible
half-interested in the routine
of bed-time prayers
because she’s busy
hunting verses underlined by
her cloud of witnesses

And for the ones who weep

And for the ones who wonder why

And for all resting ringing reading resounding
In the embrace of the One who’s risen

For all the saints