February 3, 2020, michaelbray Family Matters, Poetry,

In the Aftermath

The aftermath
Long and dreary,
The people are gone
To their places of rest.
And to rest I too would go
And be with him
If I could
Were it right to do.
O to be with you, son!
But you have won.
We are still here
And you are there
Where we will be
Forever and evermore
Never to die again.
O Death
Where is your sting?
You got NOTHIN’!

3 Feb., 2020 at 0830 (Monday after returning from the funeral)

A Nephew’s Passing Post State-of-the-Union-Address Meditation