Rites of Passage

"It's alright to pass away"

(with thanks to Irving Berlin but especially to Nathan Jacob Goldstein)

I dreamt of my grandfather in his Masonic apron;
presumably upon the morning of his funeral.

There was rain on his glasses,
or maybe it was only tears in my eyes.

He peered out through the bow windows onto the avenue as if searching;
maybe it was tomorrow that he was searching for in vain.

He warned me that they wouldn’t let me go
that the elders deemed me too young.

He and I knew better but the choice was never ours.

He held me to him tightly;
you are allowed to cry, but not to mourn
because you will be always here in the circle of my arms.

He was right, they wouldn’t let me no matter my mother’s and my pleas;
but he’s visited me since both in waking and in dreams.

I am always encircled in his afterglow.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 21 March 2017