©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson
Waldemar Brandt on Unsplash
I stood beside your grave one day,
not too long ago.
It was an extra visit, for
my heart was feeling low.
I always come on Wednesdays just
to keep the granite clean,
but I was drawn there three days sooner
to a vibrant scene.
The fall leaves skittered all around.
The squirrels chased and chattered.
The air was fresh and crisp and sweet.
For me, none of it mattered.
My focus was on missing you;
I’d come to read a poem…
a lovely, melancholy wish
that I could call you home.
I spoke each word with quiet force
and brought myself to tears
until I scarce could read the message
written for your ears.
Engulfed in sorrow, I pushed on,
determined to get through.
The tragedy was everything,
my only point of view.
And then I heard a sound…distinct
and yet, hard to define.
Just seconds later (but too late),
full clarity was mine.
The sprinklers soaked my phone, my hair,
my clothes, even my broom.
I snatched them up and jumped…no, blasted…
halfway to the moon.
I saw myself wth a third eye;
the slapstick really slayed me.
I giggled and imagined you
had found a way to save me…
To save me from my sorrow, and
to save you from it, too.
At any rate, the grief had fled.
Was it all thanks to you?
The cemetery manager
came running, with concern.
“They never go off at this time!”
It gave him quite a turn.
But all it gave me was a smile,
a sweet portion of peace.
My sad poem lost its place to
one sweet slice of joy, released.
This little poem portrays how God shows up when we need Him most, and maybe it’s our personal angels He sends. Joy is always near, waiting to be found.
There I was, with all my drama…and then…THE AWAKENING (however rude, lol). I am grateful for tender mercies, no matter how “uncomfortable” their presentation.