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Inner Peace

After the funeral of my patient
I stand in the graveyard
Among stone angels
With their eyes closed to the world,
But guarding the entrance to a tomb
And the world to come
That perhaps flutter behind
Marble eyelids as shut as
The entrance to a sarcophagus
That has a stone covering.
Another grave is topped in granite sculpture:
A statue of St. Joseph,
Staring out over the burying ground.
Is he gazing upon his inner peace?
I pray for him to lend it to me
Since he has no more use for it
Than the stone lily beside him
Has for fragrance,
Nor does it need to probe
Eye sockets of the dead
With damp fingers of roots
To nourish itself.
Peace comes easily
When you have no needs to satisfy
And no pain to feel.

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