This time — his sister said these were his happiest times
Just a few years living on Martha’s Vineyard
Where you can hear the earth, see its unblocked beauty
Where God can still find work as a puppeteer.

Like any decent romantic, he came, saw and conquered
Father Brian, serving as minister to the Episcopal flock,
A good soul who walked among us costumed in black
So we can walk with him and not be blinded by his light.

Spellbinding, he reached into hearts, listened to the ticking
Eyes on fire with comprehension forged with compassion
Leaning in for the sound that sings ‘we are not alone’
Spellbound, he left us, mouths torn open, wounds fresh.

He listened intently — and spoke with a language of empathy
He listened intently — as he broke bread, he blended friendships
He listened intently — as his eyes widened, our eyes opened
He listened intently, then left too soon.

In body a man of the cloth, in spirit a man of the wind and air
A gentle juggler of give and take until unbalanced sugars took him away
Then our natures unbalanced tried in vain to comprehend
He was too alive not to be here still.

As earth and ash stir and settle, he continues to listen to the roots
Of grace, continues to find haven in the Vineyard peace
Totally hallowed now, these church grounds have been baptized
And blessed with the fire of Father Brian — this time.