She lays in her grave like an empty house <br />Stands on an empty street, <br />Done with the giving and receiving, <br />No more concern, for feet- <br /> <br />Feet across the threshold, <br />Or hands, upon the door; <br />Nothing in the mailbox, <br />No letters, anymore. <br /> <br />She looks at eternal emptiness <br />With neither smile nor frown, <br />And sees nothing, and neither hears, <br />For deep down, there's no sound. <br /> <br />She's passed the boundary of earth, <br />She's far past deepest space; <br />She's farther than she'd ever been, <br />And of her, there's no trace. <br /> <br />Her place in me's not empty, <br />It's filled up by her light, <br />The one time she came back to me- <br />Perhaps- to say goodbye. <br /> <br />She showed that death's no ending, <br />And let me see her face <br />Devoid of its earthly clothes: <br />A countenance, of grace. <br /> <br />Was only grace, was left there, <br />And not an ounce of sorrow; <br />Not one molecules regret: <br />She looked toward tomorrow.<br /><br />Patti Masterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/she-looked-toward-tomorrow/
