A death poem

[chitherea]

It's practically midnight, but on the rare occasions that a poem gets its teeth in me, I am absolutely helpless until it's satisfied.

I finally got around to checking some emails and discovered that the husband of my grandmother's sister died suddenly about a week ago. My grandmother is rather torn up about this, and I was struggling to write something back. Not struggling to think of what to write; but struggling to stop thinking, to get out of the way so that something true could be written. And then the poem stepped in and took over. I think its finally released its grip -- at least, it let me send the email -- so I thought I'd share the results here as well. As ever, comments are welcome.

Blessing for a Funeral

May you fill your glass brim-full with grief,
Then raise it high -- and toasting, drink it down --
Down to the dregs, the foaming embers of a life that was;
So that the cleansing draught will rinse your heart
Of all the caked-on crustiness of life
And let your blood and tears flow freely once again.

And at the very end, when you can breathe and blink
The final droplets from your eyes, and set
The glass down clear and empty on the altar,
May you find that the pain of his death
And the joy of his life
Are gifts of equal worth.

And may you be assured that when your own time comes,
And grief from your loss fills us to the brim,
We, too, will form a circle,
Raise our glasses high,
And drink in toast to you --
The foaming embers of a life that was.