Ode to Erica in B Flat Minor

This week I lost a beloved colleague, which really impacted me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to put it on-line, but I think it has some merit for others. This is for all of you have experienced such loss. I'll let the poem speak for itself.

                   Ode to Erica in B Flat Minor

Today I heard the awful news announcing—

            Your concerto was extinguished.

It took my breath away.
            How can this be?

I won’t hear your violet voice anymore

 or see your honey smile.

Your brilliant eyes won’t shine anymore.

You won’t come up to me excited about the new artist supplies

              you snagged for a song.

You won’t plan with me anymore.

Hispanic paper bag ponchos or festive decorations

                    for the children’s concerts, now in your fall.
Directing our young “scholars” onto chorus risers
                                                                      in the gymnasium no more.

Your soul mate on piano,

                    accompanying squeaking violins and plucking guitars
                                                                  No more.

You won’t greet me in the hallway with flowing dresses and silver-grey hair

              Shining in the light like an angel.

You won’t make any decadent chocolate desserts and cheese cakes anymore.

No more cranberry muffins you gave me the recipe for,

No more pastries, cookies and chef specialties anymore.

You won’t lay out a feast made for a king anymore.

How can I bear not to see or hear you in the hall?

            I wish you would have told me before

                         what was really going on
                         as you wasted away, and
                                                                     slipped away from us.

How could I be so blind?

                          A colleague said you were happier now.

Why can’t I feel that way this time?
Why can’t I see you in heaven?
I’ve seen others before.
Perhaps sorrow covers my eyes like a veil.

I hope and pray you are dancing with the angels, 

                      Shining bright like the stars of heaven.

When I lay my head down for my final rest,
I hope to see your smiling face and hear your lilting island voice
                            singing in the chorus, I pray. 
Baking exquisite cakes for the King of Kings.

Maybe you’ll be organizing the African piano cadre or the 
            Mexican Hat Dance?

If so, I’ll clap my hands with you.