My Father’s Ties

  by Nadine Lockhart



The four of them, hanging off the metal clips 
in my aunt’s closet. The first, a pattern too bold 
for a funeral, the other too blue to match 
my husband’s suit. What’s left? These somber shades of gray. 
Dark for the wake, lighter for the burial. Thin, 
vertical reminders like the rain it’s been raining 
for days: His sorrow. As if the missing soul 
will not accept the promised comfort of its death. 
At the graveside—the sun appears, the sky is bright.
The air is very clear, and it is very clear.
Blessed are they whom You have chosen and received.
Alleluia!  Alleluia!  Alleluia!