Passing

He stopped breathing, finally
After 3 days of breaths shallow, weak and confusing
Shallow breath, no breath, shallow again
The agony was not his alone
But ours who waited in a hushed circle beside the bed.

He stopped living, finally
After 60 years of days joyful, pained and confusing
Good days, lost days, good days again
The journey was not his alone
But ours whose paths converged along his way.

We mourn, we grieve, we chant the song of the Buddha
At his bed side, and we say our goodbyes
Sobbing, we touch his hand, smooth back his hair
Kiss his forehead from which no further dreams arise
We bid his tender soul safe journey through ethereal skies.

We can release our own breath now, let go our fears and breathe
Deep, strong and enduring breaths.
We who stay behind as keepers of memories
And singers of the songs of life
We hold him close and let him go.

(Copyright 2005 E. Bond Francisco)