Elegy for Susan

A thousand pens, a thousand pens, a thousand pens stopped writing,

no words were written, or pages turned, but a sense of deep uniting,

came over all who’d heard the news that Susan had stopped fighting,

her body, worn with time’s cruel hand, had given hope a slighting.

A word half-formed hung in the air, its meaning yet unknown,

held aloft by half-formed tears as if they had been blown,

by the winds of sadness, moving free, as seeds that had been sewn,

to mark the passing of the friend while we were left alone.

A thousand tiny commas, forming different points of view,

joined with heightened dialogue to tell us all they knew,

paragraphs and verses made a fresh debut,

which told us how our Susan passed — all eyes were light with dew.

A gentle voice had called her name, as she lay abed,

“It’s time to leave all earthly woes, lay down your wearied head.

Come sing your verses to the Lord; this is a watershed,

where you will pass from all your cares to live in peace instead”.

How grateful for your time on earth, are we now left behind,

to grieve our loss as it seems we must, as we bear in mind,

that time on earth is precious; we all have time assigned,

to live our lives as we see fit; you lived yours disinclined,

to pause for rest, instead you gave your time,

to all writers all, for many years, a living paradigm,

who shared with vigor all you knew; you asked for but a dime.

For all you knew and all your shared, your own internal rhyme

was made at peace, when you could see, each one of us succeed,

at finding a voice for words we used, and thus we could proceed.

A thousand songbirds carried forth, as God above decreed,

your tired form to rest in peace, you’d done your last proofread.

A thousand edits called your name, remembering forever,

your gifted touch for shaping words, you were so very clever.