At 23 years of age she died,
A woman far too young.
No more to smile, her song silenced,
Before being fully sung.
On that same day, another passed,
A man of 94.
Decade upon decade of life piled up,
And more and more and more.
I thought how unjust that she should not have
Even half the days as he.
But perhaps her life, though brief, was joyful
And his long, spent in misery.
It is often unclear to me what is fair,
And what, in fact, may be not.
Perhaps blessings for some would be curses for others,
But I’m no closer to the answers I’ve sought.
No matter the years, our time here is short,
And that’s surely as it should be.
For rest is due the grieving,
Who hope, even though they can’t see.
I pray for a day when the rough spots are smoothed
And the tears of the mourning dried.
With souls separated brought together again,
Their time apart no longer to bide.