Gaze of Love

The baby gazes up at Dad,
the look of worship between the two
alive in the clean air of the shelter,
a look of love so fiercely tender,
it shimmers over the campground.

A moment
later,
fifty
years
are gone.

The gentle man gazes down at Dad
beside him in a plain pine box,
the praising love in the son’s voice
so breaking tender as he speaks,
it pierces fiercely through the grief.

As witness of these gazes,
I cannot comprehend
the passageway between.
The images, burned permanent within me,
press one upon the other without pause.

I am alive, here is life, the flowing years.
Here is profusion and lavishment of love.
Generosity divine is what I live within.
And blessed, empty, everything
is what I wish to rest in.

                        ©Susa Silvermarie 2023