From Treetops to Balmoral and all places in between; she humbly served both God and state, the second Elizabethan Queen. Now like all created order this life too has reached its end. Three score regnal years and ten of gentle, faithful presence. All nations turn acknowledging, transitional epoch and essence. Life goes on, the sceptre passed morphing the acclaim to alien. The glens and purple heather attended her closing hours. The leek and rose bowed their heads the sky replied with showers. And mortal flesh gave up its last, rest in peace God’s precious child. A mother’s tears now all shed for family, friends, and nation. A woman who has loved and lost known joys, deep faith and exaltation. A human soul, precious, beloved now with her Lord abiding.
This poem is purposefully written with the last two lines in each stanza jarring to emphasise the way death and grief disrupts and impacts on the lives those of us who are left.
Still Striving For that Elusive Halo 