[Thespiritexpress] Tuesday poem

[Riantee Rand]

Human Family - Branscomb to Lillia

Oh, to lie on a bed of feathers and furs,
reclining
in the grip of a gentle sickness
that holds you in a mantle of vagueness,
a kindly forgetfulness of who you are
tranquil,
in a loft above the living space 
where a crackling fire 
gathers friends and relatives 
around board games 
and friendly chats.
Oh to be there, invisible 
but part of it all,
unaccounted for 
but loving and loved,
exempted from all duties and exchanges.

Oh to rest in this place of non-identity
accepted by all who love you more than ever
because of that sickness that removes you, 
but is not worrisome,
knowing that your warm body 
is healing in the softest of beds, 

No worry you’ll come down tomorrow 
or next day 
to join in the fun
but until then you need peace and rest,
the warmth from the fireplace rising to you
as you recline,
embraced but the sweet chatter below
taking part but not part of it,
in the world but not of it,
just a friend lying in a bed of forgiveness
a mother who has forgiven all.

And all you have to do
is let the purring inside you
radiate and take many fanciful forms
as you go younger
unto your death.
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