The Hardest Work

         “Sunkiausias darbas”

And he assigned some work:
Until the sun came up
To scrub, rinse, and wring
Through a hole in the ice,
To dry in the sun,
To press with a steam iron
The funeral garments.

And he assigned some work:
Until the sun came up
From pink damask roses
And the whitest of lilies,
From myrtles and herbs,
To weave a funeral wreath,
To engrave an inscription
They’d read in the valley of Joseph.

And he assigned some work:
Until the sun came up
To soothe the frightened brothers
And sisters of the deceased,
To stroke their little heads and tender hands,
To explain the meaning of death to them.

And he assigned some work:
Until the sun came up
To catch the tears spurting at difficult moments,
To dry them with kisses.

And he assigned some work:
Until the sun came up
To glue his son’s body parts back together,
To dig small canals so the blood could run through them,
To open the sticky lashes,
To make the cold lips speak,
And to blow incomprehensible life back through them.