There is an attic filled with clouds
hiding the relics within from view.
Someone get a fan before the ravages of time
close this scene and man’s interruptions
remove the memories stored.

In a corner I almost see young children
round a beds head kissing a mother’s hairless pate.
Small miracles of life say bye bye Mommy.
The husband - father cries over them silently
without tear, as a single last droplet slides
from the corner of the mother’s eye.
Breathing ends as soul flies.

Dear sister, look there are two openings at foot.
The first rusted and shut, but oh so much easier
for a weary spirit.But, no precious and faithful
child of God - follow the path to the open white door
at the far point. You will need no key.

On timely cue from beyond the clouds
the cry of a newborn breaks death’s silence.
A new mother hastily employs a mug plug
in the neonate’s mouth.

NO, I request, let that babe squall louder.
Fill new lungs, squeal away the clouds of the attic.