A Psalm for Kathryn

It rained today.
Brutally cold, bone-chilling rain
that wanted to be snow,
managed only
needled sleet,
sharp and raw edged,
cutting to the quick.

Gathered to remember her,
to celebrate her eccentric spirit
and swap stories born in laughter.
The roiling clouds swept inside,
dulling the brightly sprightful flowers
to flat greys.
The minister ministered to no souls today:
instead, preaching of sin and brimstone,
of hellfire and damnation.

Amazing Grace played horribly off --
using some lost chords that need to stay forever unfound
in the bowels of NeverAgain..You could hear the voices then,
attempting to drown out horrid rendition
in some key no one has ever heard of.

Then the minister (who admitted he didn't know her well)
--he did not know her at all--sent us off on our way to eat.
Never offered to let her friends or family
say a few words, share a tale, a giggle and smile.

One of her friends was not having that!
She got up and whirled,
telling all to discard
gloomy cloaks of sadness,
to smile and be the sunshine Kathryn always was.
We nodded and smiled. Spirits lifted.
Love entered that cold nave
and the temperatures rose
as we felt the doom chased away
by sunlight and Kathy light.

Sustenance, always offered.
As if congealed chicken
and baby carrots truly feed.
Desserts vanished as if we all needed
the sweetness after the service upstairs.
Kathy's God is the one who embraced the animals,
who sought for and found the goodness in all,
who raised us up
not one who crushed.

Sugar-rush stories jumbled and sparked.
Could almost feel her sparkle,
could hear her boisterous laugh
bubbling over, wrapping all in her warm embrace.
Kathy of rescued animals and birdfeeders,
dangling crystals, meandering rivers,
piles of poetry and stacks and stacks
(and stacks) of books.
Rainbows danced
even though the sun refused to shine
through the last onslaught of a season
refusing to depart.

Kind of like Kathy. She is still here --in part.
A part of all who knew her, loved her
and were entranced by her.
The other part of her
is busy reorganizing heaven;
piling sheaves of music
haphazardly on handy clouds,
mixing up harp strings
and heartstrings,
shuffling halos
and knocking over baskets of wing feathers.
Expect heaven's a bit more chaotic
now that Kathy's there.

I bet it is perfect.