(The first time I saw the white blossoms of the Caribbean Trumpet Tree twirling down in the gentle air, I was transfixed. They floated effortlessly, as if reluctant to leave the branch, yet yielding gracefully to the inevitable pull of the earth. There was no struggle, no resistance—only a quiet, mesmerizing descent.
For a moment, it seemed they might never land, but land they did, settling softly upon the ground, where their fate awaited. Some would wither in solitude, dissolving into the earth. Others would be trampled under hurried footsteps, unnoticed and unremembered. The beauty of their fall was met with the quiet certainty of decay.
And yet, in that moment, I saw more than loss. I saw a lesson in letting go, in embracing impermanence with peace. Must not our own departure be like this—effortless, serene, with no regret, no fear?
It was this thought that gave birth to the poem that follows.)
Softly they waltz from sky to earth,
Whispers of white, a hush of mirth.
Weightless, drifting, without a sigh,
A farewell sung to the open sky.
No sorrow clings, no grasping hands,
No echoes of unmet demands.
Only the breeze, the silent air,
Carrying them with tender care.
Through tides of joy, through storms of pain,
We danced, we stumbled, rose again.
Moments fleeting, bright and deep,
Treasures to hold, yet none to keep.
No chains of past, no tears remain,
No longing calls, no bitter pain.
With love once known and lessons spun,
We bow in grace—our journey done.
As petals fall, so must we go,
Effortless, light, like melting snow.
With God’s sweet name upon our breath,
A song of peace, a fearless death.
Like blossoms twirling, free and bright,
May we dissolve into the light.
scribo ad LX 