Afraid? Of what?
To feel the spirits glad release?
To pass from pain to perfect peace?
The strife and strain of life to cease?
Afraid to see the saviors face?
To hear his welcome and to trace
The glory gleam from wounds of grace?
A flash, a crash, a pierced heart,
Darkness, light, Oheavens art.
The wounds of his a counterpart.
To do by death what life could not.
Baptize with blood, a stony plot.
Still souls shall blossom from the spot.
Afraid? Of that?
A poem I have written in your honor,
from beginning to end were all a goner.
From past to present I remember your fate,
the passing from a world of hate.
The black warrior struck that night,
And you went, but not without a fight.
He took your soul and part of mine too,
We were to be thrown off a cliff with nothing to do.
The battle began a mere fight,
It ended in death when you took flight.
You went first and then me second,
I still remember when you beckoned,
Im afraid you said and I soothed you with words,
you were never to come back to help with the herds.
Im afraid I remembered as I wrote this poem,
but its you Ofather who will never return home.
You hit the bottom when I had just started,
I knew then we were eternally parted.
Your heart was so big no words can define,
I wish I could turn back the hands of time
It was so large I thought it would never stop beating,
But there you lay, on the ground bleeding.
You wore the expression of pain on your face,
But also of contempt, like you knew you were going to a world of grace
I could do nothing to help as I flew in a free fall,
It reminds me of when we were on the boat in a squall.
And then you stopped moving, all but your blood motionless,
You are never to come back to the world of death and stress.
I couldnt believe that you were suddenly dead,
Apart from the family, and whatever lies ahead.
All we can do is remember your ways,
And when you were here in the better days.
Im not afraid, so you should be proud,
I know Ill see you in heaven, and that makes me proud.
I swear to you now that Ill see you soon,
Because death comes to us all, though for many: too soon.