I remember the day she died.
Ninety-plus years.
She finally got her heart’s desire
to meet her Lord.
He took her early that morning,
at the time of sunrise.
A sweet soul.
A simple soul.
She used to talk about her Jesus,
like they were old school friends.
Always recalling something he said.
She was full of stories,
stories about her life,
her children,
her days of breaking stones,
of going to dances,
and how she met her half sister, Louise.
The day she died,
he took her at the time of sunrise.
I didn’t cry,
and I didn’t weep.
Not until the time of sunset,
as brilliant orange blazed across the skies,
and the sun took its final curtain call for the day,
in honour of her.
Louise.
Sweet soul, simple soul, Louise.
A strong spirit of praise.
Just like the sun.
©Dionne Brown 2016
Snapshots of Jamaican Living 