by Leigh-Anne Burley

The day my husband died
a comet’s fiery tail 
streaked across 
the midnight sky. 

The grasping of my lover’s cloak
one flesh ripping into
spinning sobs.

Our Father of Light
who holds us near.
Our Father of Light
who separates us.

We fly to the bosom of Abraham
straddling the chasm between life and death.

The Father’s arms embrace 
son and daughter
severing one-flesh union
dissolved to be reunited.
Jesus’s tears wipe away our tears.

My eternal husband lives with Him.
I unfurl my clay fingers, hold my breath, and 
wait upon the eternal lover of my soul.

The comet’s tail curls around life’s vapor
leaving in its wake an empty shell
a pilgrim pierced by death’s arrow.

I crawl through a tunnel into blinding light
I know not what’s ahead
I know what’s behind.

I straddle heaven and earth
and breathe.
It is enough.

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Leigh-Anne Burley was born in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, and resides in Virginia with her husband. She has three children and six grandchildren. Leigh-Anne has a BA in English and an MA in Pastoral Counseling. She is published in nonfiction, fiction, and poetry. Leigh-Anne enjoys walking and hiking in nature, reading, writing and movies.