Standing here in silence,

Just looking at her stone,

It’s been exactly fourteen months,

Since I was left alone.



My world revolved around her,

And our whole life had been planned,

But she was taken from me,

And I do not understand.



The reason life can go astray,

And treat you so unfair,

You think the people that you love,

Will constantly be there.



As I stood before the grave,

My eyes began to blur,

Then I heard a soft voice say,

"I know you really miss her."



I turned and saw a soiled gardener,

With his muddy rake and hoe.

He said, "it never seems to be,

The right time when they go."



I dried my eyes not wanting him,

To think that I was weak.

He smiled, then looked me in the eyes,

Then he began to speak.



I wanted not to hear him,

But he spoke so eloquent,

And as he spoke I understood,

Exactly what he meant.



He spoke of life as if it were,

A journey not a fight,

But sometimes seems as if we’re living,

In the darkest night.



He spoke of things so wonderful,

I’d never heard before.

"Death is not the journey’s end,"

He said, "it’s just a door."



In his words he made me realize,

Love does not end.

For a moment love is parted,

And with that we must contend.



But the journey, as with love,

Must go on again.

Once begun, the journey and the love,

Will never end.



I turned again and understood,

As I gazed at the stone.

My journey must continue,

Even if I am alone.



I now have found some peace of mind,

Within the words he said.

Each journey is a separate one,

She just went on ahead.



A peace had now come over me,

Again my eyes had teared.

I turned to thank this kindly soul,

But he had disappeared.



He surely has a lot of work,

And stayed too long with me,

And seeing it was getting late,

Departed suddenly.



I left and made my way,

Up to the cemetery gate.

The caretaker was locking up,

But told me he would wait.



I thanked him and I hoped that I,

Had not wasted his time.

I also told him that his helper,

Was polite and kind.



He raised his head and looked at me,

With the strangest peer,

"There is no one else working,

I’m the only one who’s here."





by James A. Kisner

Who said the "darkness of the night"

Would never turn to day ...

Who said the "winter's bleakness"

Would never pass away ...



Who said the fog would never lift

And let the sunshine through ...

Who said the skies now overcast

Would nevermore be blue ...



Why should we ever entertain

These thoughts so dark and grim

And let the brightness of our mind

Grow cynical and dim ...



When we know beyond all questioning

That winter turns to spring ...

And on the notes of sorrow

New songs are made to sing ...



For no one sheds a teardrop

Or suffers loss in vain,

For God is always there to turn

Our losses into gain.



And every burden born TODAY

And every present sorrow

Are but God's happy harbingers

Of a joyous, bright TOMORROW!



~ Helen Steiner Rice ~