Dedicated to my friend

            After Catullus' poem, Ave atque vale,
  written upon the death of his brother


My dear friend is dead,
her shell abandoned.
I speak to her ashes,
to her vibrant spirit.
She struggled
against paralyzing
disease, carried raw pain
on her narrow
shoulders, worn thin.
Her flame passes  
into wisps of smoke.
Absent faith to anchor me,
habit tilts my face skyward,
I whisper 
peace.


Of this, I am certain,
the world is less
without her.