My father died six weeks ago.
The man was barely past his prime…
Ninety-eight years his lifespan though—
It seems a longer/shorter time.
So where did he go, that skeptic ghost
Who mocked at God until the end?
And, in that place, does he still boast,
His atheism to defend?
I loved that man, but Christ the Lord
Maintains a narrow entrance list.
The One whose doctrines he abhorred
By now has welcomed— or dismissed.

Today, write your own meditation on grief: a few short stanzas,
with a middle section in which a question is repeated with different answers given.


