The Day I Died

I died that day long ago,
very far from home.
I lived that day as well,
seemingly unready for
what’s next. My mother’s
light came to tell
me to return, my time yet
incomplete, my tasks
not filled in full.
This life’s final pace
was not for me, hovering
then, above my mortal shell,
though self would have it so,
this turn required more.

I died that day long ago,
thought I was going home,
not sad, no fear, no swell
of clinging to
what’s here. From tunnel
bright a chiming bell,
calling my reunion to
the work undone.
Time enough remained
for service and, yes,
pain as well, for lessons
still to master, before
this life’s final peace
brings an end to war.