The Pope Coffin I do not know whether dad believed in heaven. He had a sense for the sacred. Sometimes all you see is the fruit; the root remains secret. My father never discussed death, except to say he wanted a coffin like Pope John Paul II: clear lines, no frivolous embellishments – an architect’s choice. The minister spoke about the city-to-come, solemn and hopeful, consoling without the saccharine promises dad would have hated. One must leave space for uncertainty.
About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams, all published by Spartan Press. Most recently, she has been collaborating with eight other poets on the book Wild Muse: Ozarks Nature Poetry (Cornerpost Press, 2022.) Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.
Image Credit: Jules-Edmond-Charles Lachaise “Design for a ceiling with trompe l’oeil balustrade and sky” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 