Elizabeth Jennings - A Death

‘His face is shone’ she said,
‘Three days I had him in my house,
Three days before they took him from his bed,
And never have I felt so close.’

‘Always alive he was
A little drawn away from me.
Looks are opaque when living and his face
Seemed hiding something, carefully.

‘But those three days before
They took his body out, I used to go
And talk to him. That shining from him bore
No secrets. Living, he never looked or answered so.’

Sceptic I listened, then
Noted what peace she seemed to have,
How tenderly she put flowers on his grave
But not as if he might return again
Or shine or seem quite close:
Rather to please us were the flowers she gave