She lays in her grave like an empty house
Stands on an empty street,
Done with the giving and receiving,
No more concern, for feet-
Feet across the threshold,
Or hands, upon the door;
Nothing in the mailbox,
No letters, anymore.
She looks at eternal emptiness
With neither smile nor frown,
And sees nothing, and neither hears,
For deep down, there's no sound.
She's passed the boundary of earth,
She's far past deepest space;
She's farther than she'd ever been,
And of her, there's no trace.
Her place in me's not empty,
It's filled up by her light,
The one time she came back to me-
Perhaps- to say goodbye.
She showed that death's no ending,
And let me see her face
Devoid of its earthly clothes:
A countenance, of grace.
Was only grace, was left there,
And not an ounce of sorrow;
Not one molecules regret:
She looked toward tomorrow.
Patti Masterman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/she-looked-toward-tomorrow/
