Fold In

Fold In

She was making bread and I

asked if she was going to fold

anything into it.

She said she was mixing and

kneading, but no folding.

Bread.

A symbol of so much

Life and body.

Breaking it together.

I have been watching my brother

folding in grief

carefully

by hand

into the bowl of his life.

The oxygen tucked in and again.

The sorrow hidden like yeast to

become the very emptiness

that causes rise.

It is a slow deliberate rise.

A waiting,

living on with hands covered

in life dough and

flour snowing like tears

to the floor.

He folds in

standing almost alone

with the Bread of Life.

For Peter

June 2010

Jerry

This was for my brother.  In January his wife lost a twenty year battle with cancer.  After reading a blog on death tonite and having breakfast with him this morning I remembered this.  His wife's favorite idea was that of hope.  She was full of hope...right up to the seam she slipped through to the God of all hope.  She set it down next to Pete when she left.