A Good Conversation

We stood together, he and I,

Side by side, bearing witness to our friend:

Who lay silently, without protestation, as the lid slid into place,

And as the little box, large enough for a child, descended.

Our eyes met, his and mine,

And I uttered the time-honored, lame pronouncement:

“I am so sorry for your loss,” emerged from my palely smiling lips.

His eyes smiled more truly, and more winsomely.

“We live in the light of the Lord,” he replied.

“We are always in the light of the Lord.”

“How do you know?” I marveled at his faith,

So unexpectedly, found here, and now especially.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “We just are,” he said.

In no way efforting to persuade me of his assertion,

Yet, convincing me still, through his simple sincerity,

And by manner of his unfeigned innocence, he opened my heart.


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