I am going to the place
where the light of a picture falls.
Two brothers and three sisters,
sitting patiently for an instant of time.
For a smile to come or go.
For a thought to dissolve like sugar,
or the hand to grope for a comb.
Does the soul fly faster than light?
Can I find them between the stars
where they look into a room
unmindful of their time?
If I can touch them,
can I tell the youngest sister
to find happiness
by being what she is there.
The next sister,
how much she is loved
in the sonnets of her children,
her life a gift and treasure.
For the boy with five of his own,
to learn how much patience
he knows there and needs now,
the wonder of his youth.
To open and embrace with his arms,
no holds barred.
And the oldest sister
be blessed for a resolute soul,
but run over the horizon
and see what you find.
The oldest boy,
how much sorrow there is in you,
locked in the cold.
Come back another time
and be whole.
I sense they are there,
where my soul takes me to them.
Grumbling, laughing, fidgeting,
waiting for a flash of light
to take them into eternity,
with their smiles and stares.
Looked at often by those who stayed home,
loving them as they were
at a moment in their journey.