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Aaron Jones

"A Gentle Passing"

Let us go calmly through valleys of sun
to a place where beauty and sanctity stay,
to a place where solemn proceeds have begun
to take hold. Through this tired, old land we will stray
with precision, with purpose, in cold, pensive mode—
the six of us, three on each side of the road.

Hesitantly, we begin to recount
ramshackle memories, wrinkled with time,
of when we were young. But our eyes fall in doubt.
We regret speaking easily of the sublime,
and so we let fall individual tears
that were stored up in secrecy over the years.

We glance over our shoulders at this world of sin.
A more gentle passing it couldn't have been.

The woods come upon us with quickening pace,
and we see him through curtains of glimmering gold.
With the purest, white rose in his hands interlaced—
a flower befitting a hero of old—
beneath a mahogany, Courage quietly lies,
while Hope, like an angel, softly cries.

-X2A