In Passing
In passing, the waters cleave the landscape heart,
Taking on their travel, in their course, parts of the land;
In passing, we hikers in that current,
Return to the seas and become as the sand.
In passing, the winds weave through the mountains,
Collecting in their pockets, on their way, bits of the trees;
In passing, us leaves and twigs in the slipstream,
Are borne far away to where nobody sees.
In passing, the hours sail through the vibrant decades,
Flotillas of our memories, in their wake, define the past,
In passing, these days are a collage of wonder,
Precious and beloved from the first until the last.
In passing, a woman, mother for all seasons,
Takes with her for company the prayers of her kind,
In passing, she visited that which lives beyond dying
Her love for the lives she now leaves behind.
In passing, we are but the fine grains of sand,
Taking with us nought material as we drift to the stars,
In passing, what do we leave if we cannot leave our love?
For love is all that we remain to that which once was ours.
Julia, in loving memory
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