a party for grandma

she heard it before she went.
that opaque knell beckoning before lent.
replaying movies to her visions,
vivid visions of her ancestors.
she passed on.

her rod of wonders - like moses's
which has held her container of bones
stood at the far  wall in her room,
like the relic of an ancient civilisation-
stood unnoticed like her, when she left.

seven days burial we had of it,
celebrating a life- is it rather a death?
several gun salute to usher her soul over
to the land of mortals asleep forever.
her coffin so beautiful, her living mates wished it was theirs'.

every risen sun must set
like everyman's live breath
when soul/spirit plus clay separates
then God shares either half with the sands
w enjoyed it, for every risen sun must in the evening- set.