In a rare moment of poetic inspiration, I wrote this after attending the funeral of Paul Ragan, the father of my friend Darrell Chatraw.
Spanish moss hung on mournful hearts,
Sunlight peeked through green pine needles.
Old family reunions,
New family introductions,
The book was opened under a blue tent.
Paul Ragan was buried there.
The end of a well-lived life.
The retelling of an ancient hope.
Eyes cannot see,
A heart cannot know,
Shuffling of feet cannot carry one
To the place where the breeze blows,
To the place where the faithful knows
In the one to come
To Bainbridge cemetery.
In memory of Paul Ragan
May 12, 1921—February 11, 2008