by Richard John Scarr
(Brighton, East Sussex, England)
I know you take comfort from knowing, I'm still with you, still love you and care. But it's important to me that you realise, I am always myself when I'm there.
I am not that passing fluffy cloud. Or blossom falling from a tree. Nor music wafting on the breeze. No- What I am, is me!
I am not the scented petals of a rose, bathed in early morning dew. Or gentle falling flakes of snow. I am me- I shared my life with you.
I am the one who still adores you. The one who loved you at first sight. Who comes to kiss you every morning, and again last thing at night.
Yes, I've changed since passing over. I'm not aged and racked with pain. And the things I could no longer do, I now do them all again.
And although we're parted for a while, our love lives on and on. For the bond that bound us on the earth, has never been so strong.
One day you'll come to join me. And I promise when you do. I'll be there to fetch you over. And I'll still be me, and you'll be you.
(This poem came about after visiting the cemetery. As I strolled around the cemetery, I was amazed at the number of cards and plaques on graves claiming that the interred was not there, but was anything from a passing cloud to white doves or wind rustling the grass. Which is fine if it brings comfort. But so far removed from the truth. I went home and sat down and wrote the enclosed poem.)