Caring for others in death

Why do we run from death's tumultuous hold,
and call for that which will the silence sing,
in sudden ending, no recourse to pain;
denying of the life that death can bring?

If suffering were cause to bring on reasoned end,
then most would never live beyond their youth,
for hurting is the way of being in the world,
and torment is the way we're called to truth.

But when we think that living draws to close,
we lose our patience with the gift of breath,
demanding that the beating heart be stopped;
denying those who love, this precious test.

It's in the act of caring through the darkening days,
of reaching through the grief and splintered parts,
when mind can barely hold to what is known,
that we are joined eternal; fate long cast.

For life is but the act of love drawn surely on,
and those whose Souls have birthed to walk with us,
can offer grace beyond the bitter tears,
when we can care and soothe, in patient trust.

For loving is much more than smiles and joy,
in fact it's rooted deep in darker soil,
an earth of crucifixion, richly mulched;
where death is nothing more, than us reborn.