Tipping Point

The long-familiar now keeping
proximal vigil, communal weeping
as it gets harder to hold
your Fire, not the coming Cold.

Where does the balance fail
on this breathing scale?
When the fulcrum sways
towards death's way?

We spend these days,
finding our way
between faith unshaken
and hope forsaken.

Some sacred force will hit ~
let each welcome it.
Touching all of us:
some gently, some at full thrust.

Rather than tightening our grasping,
let us embrace your certain passing.
As you slip from this brilliant night,
may your path be filled with dazzling light.




(cc) Karen G. Johnston