Human Sadness and Spiritual Peace

A new friend, made since

Your death warranty

Was gravely pronounced,

Marvels at the strange

Mixture of human

Sadness, spiritual

Peace she’s just witnessed

At a funeral

For another friend,

And you ponder this.

Your thoughts reshuffle

Nouns and adjectives,

As they always do

When you turn around

A phrase in your head,

As if it could be

A karakuri,

And you have to solve

How to unlock it.

Outside, thunder throws

Around the canyon

And winds flatten scrub.

Your thumbnail settles

On spiritual

As the first trick word

To split the puzzle.

You pry it gently.

How is spiritual

Parallel human?

Human is sadness.

Spiritual is peace.

Mixed, apparently,

They remain distinct,

Although that feels strange.

And how is it not

Human, precisely,

To be spiritual?

The word sits oddly

In the polished frame

But it won’t wiggle

Loose—maybe it’s not

The right spot to start.