Requiem Mass

Jennifer Guyor-Jowett

In this cathedral of our world,
we honor the dead.
The relentless waves have stilled,
a retreat on bended knee,
a threnody.
We no longer need their crashing beat.
The winds come to final rest,
harboring inside organ pipes
a lament.
We hear no more their measured breath.
The earth’s hum has paused,
its ancient choir silenced,
an elegy.
Its voice sounds no more for us.
The fires doused and extinguished,
a dissipation of the dying,
a funereal hymn.
We heap all on its pyre.
Our voices chant.
Dies Irie
Echoes of the haunting.
Dies Irie
Our voices expand.
Dies Irie
Our own dirge.


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Bridge the Distance: An Oral History of COVID-19 in Poems Copyright © 2021 by Jennifer Guyor-Jowett is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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