(Photo credit: This story was inspired by German painter Heiko Müller’s painting, Sun In The Park.  http://www.heikomueller.de)


Monuments to the dead

Are erected for


Open to the souls

Of those who

Wish to remember

Those who have

Lived and died and

Continue to live.


Stone, brick or cement

Though they be

And empty

They remain

But for the meaning

Thus imbued by


Of those who live and

Continue to live.


The moment each shrine

Is complete

A silent door is hinged


Transfer from beyond

To now

Dwells in possibility

And the honored ghost

Continues to live.


Once, three figures born

Of one mother the same

In the identical hour

Released from a

A fragile frame

Walked the earth


Until the day two

Continued to live.


Snow filled the sky

It flew and then danced


Muffled were the sounds

Of voices and steps

Covered was the ground

Invisible were

The dirt and lake to those who

Continued to live.


Three walked together

And then there were two

Four feet tread trails

Already trodden

And two feet

Fell through

Ice that was cold

But thin to the touch of those who

Continued to live.


The third of three

Kicked and thrashed

Her icey eyes looked

For the hole

The whole of her

Goal was to find the shaft

Of light defining

Entrance to the world of those who

Continue to live.


The two above and

The one below

Extended their hands

Reaching for connection

Hoping for protection

Fighting for collection

Until silence filled the

Place below the feet of those who

Continued to live.


The snow fell with fury

Painting the place

With a peaceful scene



With serenity and

Swallowing the

Evidence of she who could not

Continue to live.


The two left behind

Erected a shrine

Of flakes that dropped down

And those on the ground

With frost-bitten hands

Stiffened by tears

Fallen and petrified

From the eyes of those who

Continue to live.


Inside the creation

Devised of snow

When final touches of

Eyes and nose

Were placed in honor

Of she who was gone

A door was hinged

Between the dead and those who

Continue to live.


When two journey into the woods

To embrace the one who fell

She opens the door

Through the visage of snow

And enters the world

Once more

Invisible to most

But fully present with the two who

Continue to live.


copyright Jill Szoo Wilson