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Loss and Grief:
Poems & Writings
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NATIVE AMERICAN PRAYER
I give you this one thought to keep --
I am with you
still – 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 rain.
When you awaken in the
morning’s hush,
I am the swift,
uplifting rush
of quiet
birds in circled flight.
I
am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not think of me
as gone –
I am with you still – in
each new dawn.
The original poem has been attributed to Mary
Frye as author, and reads:
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 sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
You can read about Mary Frye and the
authorship question at
http://www.businessballs.com/donotstandatmygraveandweep.htm
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I STOOD BY YOUR BED
I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying, you found it hard to sleep.
I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear,
"It's me, I haven't left you, I'm well, I'm fine, I'm here."
I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea, you were thinking of the many times your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at the shops today, your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.
I was with you at my grave today, you tend it with such care.
I want to reassure you, that I'm not lying there.
I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said "it's me."
You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know, that I was standing there.
It's possible for me to be so near you every day.
To say to you with certainty, "I never went away."
You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew ... in the
stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.
The day is over... I smile and watch you yawning
and say "goodnight, God bless, I'll see you in the morning."
And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide,
I'll rush across to greet you and we'll stand, side by side.
I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out ... then come home to be with me.
Author Unknown
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RAINBOW BRIDGE
The original Rainbow Bridge poem
was written
by Terri Onorato
and is copyright protected. You may find it
and
additional poems and writings at her website
http://www.angelbluemist.com/portrait.html
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IF IT SHOULD BE . . .
If it
should be that I grow weak, and
the pain should keep me from my sleep, then
you must do what must be done, for
this last battle cannot be won.
You
will be sad, I understand, don't
let your grief then stay your hand, for
this day more than all the rest, your
love for me must stand the test.
We've
had so many happy years, what
is to come can hold no fears, you'd
not want me to suffer so, the
time has come to let me go.
Take
me where my need they'll tend, and
please stay with me until the end, I
know in time that you will see, the
kindness that you have done for me.
Although my tail its last has waved, from
pain and suffering I've been saved.
Please do not grieve, it must be you who had this painful thing to do; we've
been so close, we two, these years, don't
let your heart hold back its tears.
Author Unknown
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A DOGGIE PRAYER
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So do not grieve for me, my friend, as I am with my kind.
My collar is a rainbow's hue
My leash is a shooting star
My boundaries are the milky way, where I sparkle from afar.
There are no pens or kennels here, for I am not confined,
but free to roam God's heavens among my special kind.
I nap the day on a snowy cloud and gentle breezes are rocking me;
I dream the dreams of earthlings and how it used to be. The trees are full of liver treats
and tennis balls abound, and milk bones line the walking ways just waiting to be found.There even is a ring set up,
the grass all lush and green, and everyone who gaits around becomes the "Best Of Breed".
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For we're all
winners in this
place, we have no faults
you see.
And God passes
out the ribbons to each
one--even me.
I drink from
waters laced with gold, my
world a beauty to behold.
And wise old dogs do form
my pride to amble at my
very side.
At night I sleep in an
angel's arms, her wings
protecting me, and
moonbeams dance about
us as stardust falls on
thee.
So when your life on earth
is spent and you reach
heaven's gate, have no
fear of loneliness, for here,
you know I wait.
Author Unknown
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DON'T CRY FOR
THE HORSES
This poem was written
by Brenda Riley-Seymore
and is copyright protected. You may find it
and
additional poems and writings
dedicated to the equine
at
http://www.faeriekeeper.net/poetry4.htm
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For answers to the question,
"Do Dogs Go to Heaven?" (note that any species can be used in place of dog),
see Dick Neville's wonderful site:
http://www-hsc.usc.edu/~cypert/dick/inheaven.html
For
beautiful sympathy cards, artwork and memorials incorporating loving poems
about animals (horses and others),
visit
http://hoofprints.com/.
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THE JOURNEY
When you bring a pet into
your life, you begin a journey. A journey that will bring you more love and
devotion than you have ever known, yet will also test your strength and
courage. If you allow, the journey will teach you many things, about life,
about yourself, and most of all, about love. You will come away changed
forever, for one soul cannot touch another without leaving its mark.
Along the way, you will learn much about savoring life's simple pleasures --
jumping in leaves, snoozing in the sun, the joys of puddles, and even the
satisfaction of a good scratch behind the ears. If you spend much time
outside, you will be taught how to truly experience every element, for no
rock, leaf, or log will go unexamined, no rustling bush will be overlooked,
and even the very air will be inhaled, pondered, and noted as being full of
valuable information.
Your pace may be slower, except when heading home to the food dish, but you
will become a better naturalist, having been taught by an expert in the
field. Too many times we hike on automatic pilot, our goal being to complete
the trail rather than enjoy the journey. We miss the details: the colorful
mushrooms on the rotting log, the honeycomb in the old maple snag, the hawk
feather caught on a twig.
Once we walk as a dog does, we discover a whole new world. We stop; we
browse the landscape, we kick over leaves, peek in tree holes, look up,
down, all around. And we learn what any dog knows: that nature has created a
marvelously complex world that is full of surprises, that each cycle of the
seasons bring ever changing wonders, each day an essence all its own.
Even from indoors you will find yourself more attuned to the world around
you. You will find yourself watching: summer insects collecting on a screen;
how bizarre they are; how many kinds there are or noting the flick and flash
of fireflies through the dark. You will stop to observe the swirling dance
of windblown leaves, or sniff the air after a rain. It does not matter that
there is no objective in this; the point is in the doing, in not letting
life's most important details slip by.
You will find yourself doing silly things that your pet-less friends might
not understand: spending thirty minutes in the grocery aisle looking for the
cat food brand your feline must have, buying dog birthday treats, or driving
around the block an extra time because your pet enjoys the ride. You will
roll in the snow, wrestle with chewie toys, bounce little rubber balls till
your eyes cross, and even run around the house trailing your bathrobe tie
with a cat in hot pursuit, all in the name of love.
Your house will become muddier and hairier. You will wear less dark clothing
and buy more lint rollers. You may find dog biscuits in your pocket or
purse, and feel the need to explain that an old plastic shopping bag adorns
your living room rug because your cat loves the crinkly sound. You will
learn the true measure of love. The steadfast, undying kind that says, "It
doesn't matter where we are or what we do, or how life treats us as long as
we are together."
Respect this always. It is the most precious gift any living soul can give
another. You will not find it often among the human race. And you will learn
humility. The look in my dog's eyes often made me feel ashamed. Such joy and
love at my presence. She saw not some flawed human who could be cross and
stubborn, moody or rude, but only her wonderful companion. Or maybe she saw
those things and dismissed them as mere human foibles, not worth
considering, and so chose to love me anyway.
If you pay attention and learn well, when the journey is done, you will be
not just a better person, but the person your animal companion always knew
you to be. The one they were proud to call beloved friend. I must caution
you that this journey is not without pain. Like all paths of true love, the
pain is part of loving. For as surely as the sun sets, one day your dear
animal companion will follow a trail you cannot yet go down. And you will
have to find the strength and love to let them go.
An animal companion's time on earth is far too short, especially for those
that love them. We borrow them, really, just for a while, and during these
brief years they are generous enough to give us all their love, every inch
of their spirit and heart, until one day there is nothing left. The cat that
only yesterday was a kitten is all too soon old and frail and sleeping in
the sun. The young pup of boundless energy now wakes up stiff and lame, the
muzzle gone to gray.
Deep down we somehow always knew that this journey would end. We knew that
if we gave our hearts they would be broken. But give them we must for it is
all they ask in return. When the time comes, and the road curves ahead to a
place we cannot see, we give one final gift and let them run on ahead, young
and whole once more. "God speed, good friend," we say, until our journey
comes full circle and our paths cross again.
Author Unknown |
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