When man breathes final,
air pushing out in last carbon burst,
is it possible his soul ascends?
Pushing out of one painfully human abode
into another eternal home,
less war-wracked and more
home, as it should’ve been,
since the beginning.
Is it possible
as his bones lay resting,
he is glad
to no longer be
anchored to this fretful road,
free from life’s many weights,
obligations, and strains?
Perhaps he dances in this eternal place,
grateful to become the self he always
hoped to be.
Perhaps in this state he experiences
God as He really is,
without the cumbersome lens
of personal view or stereotype.
Perhaps it is possible,
as we look down upon the old skin
of a beloved man,
he looks down upon us,
happier and more present
than he had ever been
In Loving Memory of Bobby Skipwith
Rachel Hall is a playwright, poet, and aspiring children’s book author. She loves fun words and long pauses and days when it rains. She lives in California with her husband and their garden. You can follow her on Instagram @rachelhallpoetry, where you will find many poems about life and the occasional photo of her coffee.