Upon the verdant earth she lay, a form of gentle grace,
Her countenance a somber art, a sorrow on her face.
Her gaze was fixed on heavens high, a firmament of gray,
A widow to a memory, a sun that's passed away.

Her tears, like silent, silver beads, escaped her weeping eyes,
A tribute to a fallen love, a soul beyond the skies.
A soldier brave and resolute, whose final, noble fight,
Had left her heart a shattered pane, deprived of all its light.

The cumulus, a mottled mass, began to twist and turn,
A panorama of the soul, for which her grief would burn.
A phantom shape within the clouds, a face she knew so well,
A final, fleeting glimpse of him, a poignant, soft farewell.

The heavens' vast expanse began to part for her to see,
A chasm formed of pearlescent light, for her, and only she.
A brilliant, glorious presence, an empyrean form,
Appeared to soothe her agony, and shelter her from storm.

A being of resplendent hue, with pinions of the dawn,
Its luminescence, pure and bright, a beacon to her on.
It knelt beside her on the grass, a silent, caring friend,
A balm to her afflicted soul, on which she could depend.

A silent, calming gesture, its touch a gentle fire,
It offered her a respite from her heart's forlorn desire.
And in her spirit's silent plea, her questions took their hold,
Of why her love was taken, a story left untold.

"Is he in peace, my cherished one? Does he no longer weep?"
Her soul's petition echoed deep, from sorrow's endless steep.
The angel's gentle whispers, a chime of silver bells,
Responded with a truth that breaks the heart's most bitter spells.

"His spirit is a star, my dear, a point of pure acclaim,
He's shed his earthly raiment, and is cleansed of mortal pain."
The angel’s voice, a melody, transcended human fear,
And spoke a truth that resonated, banished every tear.

"He watches over you, his love a constant, warm embrace,
And waits for your eventual join, in that celestial place."
The burden on her shoulders, the weight of mortal plight,
Was lifted by this sacred truth, a vision of the light.

The angel's form began to fade, a slow and soft retreat,
A promise in its silent gaze, a future bittersweet.
The clouds reformed above her head, a soft and gentle quilt,
Reflecting all the quiet hope, that she had slowly built.

The phantom voices in her mind, the questions of the past,
Were silenced by a holy peace, a truth that's meant to last.
Her grieving heart, so desolate, began to feel its mend,
A fragile sprout of solace, that from the heavens lend.

She rose upon the verdant earth, a feeling light and free,
With memories of her lost love, for all eternity.
No longer was the weight so dire, no longer was she grieved,
Her spirit felt a comfort, that it had long believed.

The clouds above, a final shape, a testament of grace,
Revealed her soldier’s noble form, a smile upon his face.
And as the moon began to rise, a gentle, golden glow,
She felt a final, sweet farewell, a feeling soft and low.

Her silent tears had stopped at last, her heart no longer bled,
She was no longer grieving, but a lover's final bed.
Her eyes were closed, her soul at peace, her breath a silent sigh,
Beneath the loving, watchful gaze of her hero in the sky.

Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "

The sky turned sick, a bruised and angry stain,
As torrents fell of unrelenting rain.
The world dissolved to wind and frantic sound,
A fearful force that ripped the very ground.

My walls groaned loud and then began to split,
The roof surrendered, broken bit by bit.
I clung to wood as timbers came undone,
A fragile fight beneath a blinded sun.

The ocean surged to meet the screaming sky,
And I, a speck, could only hope to fly.
I fought the waves that sought to pull me down,
A final battle for a watery crown.

Then silence fell, a sudden, shocking grace,
Upon a broken and a ravaged place.
The water calmed, the roaring wind was low,
To show a world where nothing was I know.

I cried for voices in the muted air,
My pleas for family went unheard out there.
No call returned, no single, final sound,
Just empty quiet on the flooded ground.

A hollow chest where sorrow took its stand,
The last survivor in a broken land.
The living breathed, but only I was left,
My very soul of every joy bereft.

No gentle hand to help me rise again,
No solace offered in this world of pain.
I had to stand, though fractured, bruised, and weak,
And face the silence when I wished to speak.

A single life for all that was now gone,
I carried ghosts to greet the coming dawn.
A monument to all the love I knew,
I am the one to see their memory through.