Departure

Phillip Brown

I am a witness
in the silence held
suspended
between one breath
and the next
as a moth dies
pressed fluttering
against a fluorescent moon
in the stairwell

its soul loosed
swiftly like a dry leaf
in autumn that quivers
once and parts
from the branch
drifting toward ground

did you see it?

Such is the departure
of the dying
the soundless break
as life's crust splits
and the soul emerges
winged and luminous

and we look with reverence
upon the frail husk
left behind
translucent in evening light
sanctified by the fire
once held within

Unseen
the spirits ascend
bare whispers of being
tethered gently to life
by threads spun
from memory and longing
fashioned in the hours after

by we the living