the sweetest honey
i feel the weight
of your absence often,
every family gathering
where you can’t tell us
you’re doing terrible good;
but i see you in honey bees
and bumble bees that
come my way,
maybe you’ve found the bees
you lost on earth in heaven;
and you can enjoy the sweetest
honey of being able to know
your memories—
the dementia didn’t care it was
only days after christmas,
it didn’t care that we loved you;
that we had memories left
where we wished you were
still there—
but i hope where your soul is
now that you know only
psalms of goodness and peace,
where the gentle streams of water wash
away every agony.
-linda m. crate