You waited until you were alone.
Death is a private thing.
You knew your last act
was to a different audience.
As it entered you -
oh how you must have danced!
curving toward God, elegant and alone.
Dear one, what is it like?
Tell us! What is death?
Birth,
you say, your voice swathed in wings.
I am born in the endless beginning.
I am not. I am.
You start turning into us,
we who love you.
You weep in our sadness,
you laugh when we do,
you greet each moment fresh,
when we do.
So may your gift of loving enter our own
and be with us that way, forever.


~ Elias Amidon

from here