WALK WITHIN YOU
If I be the first of us to die, let grief not blacken long your sky.
Be bold yet modest in your grieving.
There is a change, but not a leaving.
For just as death is part of life, the dead live on forever in the living and
All the gathered riches of our journey,
the moments shared,
the mysteries explored,
the steady layering of intimacy stored,
the things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
the joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,
the wordless language of look and touch,
each giving and each taking,
these are not flowers that fade, nor are they stone.
For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand.
And mighty mountain peaks in time reduced to sand,
what we were, we are.
What we have, we have. A conjoined past and imperishably present.
So when you walk the woods where we once walked together,
and scan in vain the dappled bank beside you
for my shadow,
or pause where we always did
upon the hill to gaze across the land,
and spotting something, reach by habit for my hand.
And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you. Be still.
Close your eyes.
Listen for my footfall in your heart.
I’m not gone, but merely
walk within you.