As I watched men shovel the sacred ground back into its Mother Earth after the lowering of a Native American friend’s casket, the following poem came to mind:
Don’t cry for me, I’m dead and gone. I’ve sung life’s last and mournful song. I’ve cried the bitter tears and wept. I’ve passed the torch, the vigil kept.
I’ve traveled life’s tempestuous road and carried many a heavy load. I’ve helped when others had no more to give; I’ve kept on going when I had no will to live.
I’ve gone to the ends of the earth and back, I never from my duties did slack. I’ve fed the hungry and clothed the bare; I’ve scraped for money when there was none to share.
I’ve given all to my Lord, my God, and always his narrow pathway trod. I dried the tears and hid the shame, and made sure everyone had a better name.
So don’t you cry, I am at peace; my shoulders from burdens have been released. I’m here at last where I belong, no more to sigh when the day is long.
Look up and see a better world. Always keep righteous flags unfurled. Share the faith, walk the path and you will gain all that the Father hath.
Live your life as I would have done. Pray to God, worship his Son. Live for Him and live for me, and one day, soon, together we’ll be!
©2015 by Denise W. Anderson, all rights reserved.