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A Poem for the Grieving

A Poem for the Grieving

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die…

 ~ Mary Frye

The Dime – Poem

The Dime – Poem

I found a dime today, just laying on the ground.
But it’s not just a dime, this little coin I’ve found.

Found dimes come from heaven. That’s what my Grandpa told me.
He said Angels toss them down. Oh, how I loved that story.

He said when an Angel misses you, they toss a dime down.
Sometimes just to cheer you up, to make a smile out of your frown.

So, don’t pass by that dime, when you’re feeling blue.
It may be a dime from heaven, that an Angel tossed to you.

– Anon (Adapted from The Penny)

 

 

 

 

 

The Inner Spirit

The Inner Spirit

As a caregiver, we often find ourselves reaching within for inner strength to give us courage and support as we tackle the challenges of daily life.

It is the inner-self which drives our movement… our movement to take that dive… to be alive. Our legs shake, as often, we hang onto the edge… the edge which is often safe with no risk… but life is brisk.

We need to jump high… so high that we will not fall or hit the wall which would stop our flight… but not our might. Black or white we need to get on track… a track which stretches like a keyboard, maintaining harmony as we play the game, it’s all the same.

The heart beat guides us to the end… the end of our journey of action… with the reaction of our body bidding us to put on the brakes… too many retakes. We need to take a look at the outside in order to appreciate that inner-self, of cherished wealth.

Get a tune up and head bravely with determination to the finish line… run that line of life… keep the spirit of life alive… take that dive. Plan your goals and love toward the reward… there will be tears and cheers throughout the years. It is the inner-self which drives our movement… make it show… get set and go.

(I wrote this poem in 1990 for my English class. It was inspired by a mural at the Mount Allison University Athletic Centre painted by Alex Colville.)

The Moment of Glory

The Moment of Glory

Once green, the tarnished carcass rests upon the fertile soil… withered veins wrinkle this aging but glorious image… graceful with flight.

It is an image of life, which has reached the final stage… the fading stage… like a ritard at the end of a lullaby. It sleeps with the harmony of nature serving as its burial ground.

It lies crumpled… with its transformation from birth a mere memory.

The gentle breeze now lifts the leaf, its fragmented body, as a spirit floating in the air… it lingers in life, the dynamics of life with vigor… a moment of glory… freedom… then it falls back to its roots… it falls in the Fall… and lies in await for another moment of glory in the breath of the breeze.

(I wrote this poem in 1990 regarding the cycle of life.)

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