On The Death Of A Friend

This is very beautiful and replete with such beautiful imagery. I particularly like "Your face swims like a dragonfly on the interface of tears." I imagine a dragonfly whose wings are made translucent by human tears. Try as it might, it cannot reenter the frame of life. There is such a tinge of sadness to someone having died unsung. It reminds me of when I was nineteen, discovering that my father was buried in an unmarked grave. How dishonorable it seemed for him to be buried without even his name, unsung, if you will. While I remedied that by putting a marker on his grave, the sting of that finding has never left me.-Linda Marie Van Tassell 

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