AFTER LIFE AND PAIN CAME DEATH

AFTER LIFE AND PAIN CAME DEATH

The baby grew through summer rain,
then stood upon her own,
she filled the rooms with laughter
before she left our home.

The years rolled on like thunder,
our hair turned winter white,
but still we spoke about the storm
that made our hearts unite.

We lived through days of happiness,
through arguments and strain,
through doors that slammed, then opened,
through forgiveness after pain.

We watched our friends grow fewer,
their names carved into stone,
and held each other closer
each time we came back home.

Then sickness took your steady hands
and made your body weak,
I knew the words behind your eyes
when you could hardly speak.

You said, “Do you remember
that wild and rainy night?”
I kissed your head and answered,
“It gave our darkness light.”

After life and pain came death,
not dressed in robes of black,
but quiet as a falling leaf
that could not be put back.

You slipped away beside me
while rain tapped on the glass,
the storm that brought our love alive
had come to help you pass.

Our daughter stood behind me,
her hand inside my hand,
the child who came from thunder
was strong enough to stand.

After life and pain came death,
but love did not depart,
for death could stop your breathing—
it could not take my heart.

And when the rain comes down at night,
I feel you close again,
waiting where our story started,
naked in the rain.