On your Mom's Passing (Poem A friend wrote for moi)

When every memory of her is a shackle
and the bitter sweet of Love is strong
and your laughter becomes a noose,
from which your pain is hung,
when every new day you awaken,
only to welcome a deeper mourn,
condemning the hope
nuzzling the nerve endings 
to your broken heart
as wrong,
remember she danced the crook of your smile,
spoke you in dreams the day you were born,
remember her labor, how she taught you ways 
to create new joy from scorn.  

Remember her voice. 

Let it now urge you on more resolutely than before,
rouse you to the depths of Love's potential,
ever closer to your inner core.
For although it may be true 
that no sorrow exists quite like the passing of Love,
no goodbye quite so brief,
yet no occasion quite so extreme as death 
may hold the seed of your dreams.
And it is precisely when it seems impossible,
that you must embrace continued growth;
for it is in the darkest hour of our darkest nights
that our Lights must truly show;
even in grief, our grim universes reap
the seeds our spirits sow.
Your heart is a metronome,
so use your mother's Love as the beat that keeps it going.  

And even through the tears, you smile,
knowing her Love won't always roar,
and as the years fold atop one another 
she may not come each time you call,
but with every ephemeral flake of snow,
in every sharpened blade of grass,
through every autumn leaf that falls,
her Love will whisper you of the past.
In every word, you'll remember a smile,
every prayer'll harbor a vow,
and in a moment of disagreeable anger,
her kiss will smooth your brow.
For your mother awaits you in the beyond,
she went forth to pave your path,
so that when your responsibility to your Loved ones
had been seen through to its last
you would behold her gentleness once again
upon Heaven's hallowed ground.
She merely merged into a breath of God,
Who speaks her softly to the wind,
that she may lead your soul home once again
to His great Kingdom within.  

So when every memory of her is a shackle
and the bitter taste of Love is strong
and your laughter has become a noose,
a hook, from which your pain is hung,
remember that she expects from you 
a demonstration that she always taught you well.
Remember she Loved you, that you may Love yourself
and in your life excel.
When every new day you awaken,
only to welcome a deeper mourn,
prey on your every inhibition; 
she saw you as more than just a man.
Love has always rested on your temple, 
where God's been perfecting His plan.
And whether or not you believe in Him,
He will always believe in you,
so if you call on all your strength of Love... 
the Eyes of the Great Beholder...
will always see you through. 

 Amen.