Ruach (Wilmer Mills)

                                     When I die and breathe my last,
                                    It won’t be in or out.

I’ll take my final breath,

Hailing the silence of glass,

Glass that isn’t a solid,

But slowly cooling back

From molten silica,

The unheld breath of time.

                                   

Once dead, I’ll see the moon

As close as my hand, like this.

Who cares if there’s any water

Trapped inside its rocks

Like all the water trapped

In Bible stories, water

God brooded over, parted,

Walked on, turned to wine?

                                   

I’ll see the story of time

Made clearly visible;

I’ll see my final breath

Annealing, a miracle

Of clarity, of silence

Of water’s opposite,

A perfect silence drawn

From my blood, my noise.

Amen

--Poet Wilmer Mills succombed to cancer in 2011 at the age of 42.

Selected Poems, ed. Kathryn Oliver Mills

In November, we remember those who have died.

Say a prayer today for loved ones who have passed.

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