Memorial Poems and Readings 

I would like to share with you some readings which come from different  sources. All of us deal with the human wrestling we each must do with the fact that, for us and for those whom we love, life has a both a beginning and an end.

#1

From the writing of William Penn, the founder of Penn’s Woods, now Pennsylvania. Penn writes about the death of his friend:

“They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.
Death cannot kill what never dies.
Nor can spirits ever be divided that love and live in the same
divine principle: the root and record of their friendship.
If absence be not death, neither is theirs.
Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the sea;
…they live for one another still.
This is the comfort of friends: that though they may be said to die,
yet their friendship and society are, in the best sense immortal,
because they are ever present.” -William Penn, Fruits of Solitude.

#2

Robert Ingersoll, a great public speaker of the late 1800’s, was asked to speak at the graveside of a friend’s young daughter. He spoke briefly, and with the greatest words of comfort he could find. He said,

“Before the sublime mystery of life and spirit, the mystery of infinite space and endless time, we stand in reverent awe….
This much we know: we are at least one phase of the immortality of life.
The mighty stream of life flows on, and, in this mighty stream, we too flow on…not lost…but each eternally significant.
For this I feel: The spirit never betrays the person who trusts it. Physical life may be defeated but life goes on; character survives, goodness lives and love is immortal.”

#3

Almost 3000 years ago, The Psalmist wrote a few lines of poetry that have endured through the ages. It is perhaps the best loved and most often repeated poem in the Western World. It is used most often at a time like this for our comfort and stability.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want;
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil;
For thou art with me;
Thy rod and they staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
Thou anointest my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” -Psalm 23

#4

Prayer of Faith
We trust that beyond absence there is a presence.
That beyond the pain there can be healing.
That beyond the brokenness there can be wholeness.
That beyond the anger there may be peace.
That beyond the hurting there may be forgiveness.
That beyond the silence there may be the word.
That beyond the word there may be understanding.
That through understanding there is love.
– Author Unknown

#5

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want;
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul.
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil;
For Thou art with me;
Thy rod and they staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou anointest my head with oil;
My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” -Psalm 23

#6

To Those I Love, by Isla Paschal Richardson:
If I should ever leave you whom I love
To go along the Silent Way, grieve not,
Nor speak of me with tears, but laugh and talk
Of me as if I were beside you there.
(I’d come–I’d come, could I but find a way!
But would not tears and grief be barriers?)
And when you hear a song or see a bird
I loved, please do not let the thought of me
Be sad…For I am loving you just as
I always have…You were so good to me!

There are so many things I wanted still
To do–so many things to say to you…
Remember that I did not fear…It was
Just leaving you that was so hard to face…
We cannot see Beyond…But this I know:
I loved you so–’twas heaven here with you!

If I should die and leave you here awhile,
Be not like others, sore undone, who keep
Long vigils by the silent dust, and weep:
For my sake turn again to life, and smile,
Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do
Something to comfort weaker hearts than thine;
Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine,
And I, perchance, may therein comfort you.

Do not stand on my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond’s glint 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 soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
-author unknown

#7

This is a prayer of sorts, from the American Indian tradition. It is spoken by the one who has died. It is entitled LIFE MUST GO ON… a Navaho Prayer
Grieve for me, for I would grieve for you.
Then brush away the sorrow and the tears
Life is not over, but begins anew,
with courage you must greet the coming years.
To live forever in the past is wrong;
can only cause you misery and pain.
Dwell not on memories overlong,
with others you must share and care again.
Reach out and comfort those who comfort you;
recall the years, but only for a while.
Nurse not your loneliness; but live again.
Forget not. Remember with a smile.

#8

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From whence does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot be moved,
He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is your keeper,
The Lord is your shade on your right hand.
The sun shall not smite you by day, nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from all evil, He will keep your life.
The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in
From this time forth, and for evermore.

#9
The voice said, Cry,” and I said, “What shall I cry?
All flesh is grass and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field.
The grass whithers and the flower fades;
The wind passes over it and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.
But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting
upon those who fear him,
And his righteousness to children’s children. -Psalm 103 (adapted)

#10

Let not your hearts be troubled;
You believe in God, Believe also in me.
In my father’s house there are many mansions.
If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?
And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you unto myself, that where I am you may be also.
I will not leave you comfortless;
I will come to you. -Gospel of John

#11

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste.
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long since canceled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of forebemoan’ed moan,
Which I new-pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end. -Wm. Shakespeare

#12

Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness or farewell, When I embark;
For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

#13

Many Winters – by Nancy Wood

All my life is a dance.
When I was young and feeling the earth,
My steps were quick and easy.

The beat of the earth was so loud
That my drum was silent beside it.

All of my life rolled out from my feet
Like my land which had no end as far as I could see.
The rhythm of my life was pure and free.

As I grew older my feet kept dancing so hard
That I wore a spot in the earth.
At the same time I made a hole in the sky.
I danced to the sun and the rain and the moon lifted me up
So that I could dance to the stars.
My head touched the clouds sometimes
And my feet danced deep in the earth
So that I became the music I danced to everywhere
It was the music I dance to everywhere
It was the music of life.

Now my steps are slow and hard
And my body fails my spirit,
Yet my dance is still within me and
My song is the air I breathe.
My song insists that I keep dancing forever.
My song insists that I keep rhythm
With all of the earth and the sky.

My song insists that I will never die.

#14

Remember Me:
To the living, I am gone.
To the sorrowful, I will never return.
To the angry, I was cheated,
But to the happy, I am at peace,
And to the faithful, I have never left.
I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.
So as you stand upon a shore, gazing at a beautiful sea – remember me.
As you look in awe at a mighty forest and its grand majesty – remember me.
As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity – remember me.
Remember me in your heart, your thoughts, and your memories of the times we loved, the times we cried, the times we fought, the times we laughed.
For if you always think of me, I will have never gone.

#15

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
-Margaret Mead

#16

The world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers and cities; but to know someone who thinks and feels with us, and who, though distant, is close to us in spirit, this makes the earth for us an inhabited garden
-Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

#17

There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.
-Edith Wharton

#18

James Whitcomb Riley wrote a short poem entitled “A Parting Guest,” in which he describes a human being departing this life as if he were leaving a party with thanks and gratitude to his/her hosts:

What delightful hosts are they—
Life and Love!
Lingeringly I turn away,
This late hour, yet glad enough
They have not withheld from me
Their high hospitality.
So, with face lit with delight
And all gratitude, I stay
Yet to press their hands and say,
“Thanks. –So fine a time! Good night.”

#19

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
….Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patens of bright gold.
There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims;
Such harmony is in immortal souls…

#20

Loren Eiseley wrote about the mysterious thread of life which holds us all together:
“Since the first human eye saw a leaf in primordial sandstone and a puzzled finger reached to touch it, sadness has lain over the heart of human beings. By this tenuous thread of living protoplasm, stretching backward into time, we are linked forever to lost beaches whose sands have long since hardened into stone.
“The stars that caught our blind amphibian stare have shifted far or vanished in their courses, but still that naked glistening thread winds onward.
“No one knows the secret of its beginning or its end. Its forms are phantoms. The thread alone is real; the thread is life.” -Loren Eiseley, The Firmament of Time

#21

A poem addressed from the one who has passed away, to his/her family:
Family o’ mine:
I should like to send you a sunbeam, or the twinkle of some bright star,
or a tiny piece of the downy fleece that clings to a cloud afar.

I should like to send you the essence of a myriad sun-kissed flowers,
or the lilting song as it floats along, of a brook through fairy bowers.

I should like to send you the dew-drops that glisten at break of day,
and then at night the eerie light that mantles the Milky Way.

I should like to send you the power that nothing can overthrow –
the power to smile and laugh the while a-journeying through life you go.

But these are mere fanciful wishes; I’ll send you a Godspeed instead,
and I’ll clasp your hand – then you’ll understand all the things I have left unsaid.

#22

Eagle Poem

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon;
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear,
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound, but other
Circles of motion.
Like Eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky,
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon within a
True circle of motion,
Like Eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

-Joy Harjo, Creek Indian

#23

“The Song of the River”   William R. Hearst
The snow melts on the mountain And the water runs down to the spring,
And the spring in a turbulent fountain, With a song of youth to sing,
Runs down to the riotous river, And the river flows to the sea,
And the water again Goes back in rain To the hills where it used to be.

And I wonder if life’s deep mystery Isn’t much like the rain and the snow
Returning through all eternity To places it used to know.
For life was born in the lofty heights And flows in a laughing stream,
To the river below Whose onward flow Ends in a peaceful dream.

And so at last, When our life has passed And the river has run its course,
It again goes back O’er the selfsame track,
To the mountain which was its source.

So why clutch life, Or why fear death, Or dread what is to be?
The river ran Its allotted span Till it reached the silent sea.

Then the water harked back To the mountain-top
To begin its course once more. So we shall run The course begun
Till we reach the silent shore.

Then revisit earth In a pure rebirth From the heart of the virgin snow.
So don’t ask why We live or die, Or whither, or when we go;
Or struggle with the mysteries of life That only God may know.

#24

God’s Grandeur – Gerard Manley Hopkins

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness like the ooze of oil crushed.
Why do we then now not [heed] his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade, bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears our smudge and shares our smell:
The soil is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black west went,
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs–
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with, ah! bright wings!

#25

A reading from David K. Reynolds’ book entitled “Water Bears No Scars.” The section is entitled “Realism.”
“Anyone who has spent years working in a garden or in the fields knows impermanence intimately. We see the cycle of seasons, the coming and going of insects, droughts, freezes, rot, the seeds that sprout or die, the life cycles of plants, the bountiful harvests and the lean. It is all change. There is nothing that can be counted on with certainty to be exactly as it was last year. Our only recourse is to keep on fitting what we do, adapting who we are, to the constantly changing circumstances.

“It does no good to tell the grasshopper eating the soybean leaves, “You really shouldn’t be doing that.” Wishing the rain would stop (or come) doesn’t affect the weather or the plants. Analyzing how we feel about fungus doesn’t save the cabbage. We need a more realistic perspective and straightforward action to have a chance to effect the changes we desire.

“I am not being passive or resigned when I emphasize the changeableness of the world and the necessity of our adapting to it. Only when we have a clear vision of this flux and our place in it does our effort mean something. To work and succeed and play and love while pretending it will all last, while ignoring the fragile “momentariness” of it all, is to miss the chance for depth in all these activities. To try while dying, to love while changing, to play while acknowledging the impermanence allows a kind of nobility to the simplest act, to something that was only childish escape before.

“There is nothing ennobling about suffering itself. But in striving while suffering we move beyond ourselves to become new creatures — whether the striving attains what we set out to accomplish or not. Pain and self-doubt and fear and anger don’t necessarily stimulate growth, but they do permit it. When the effort is there. Change is inevitable. In the garden; in us. Some of the change we can influence, some we cannot. Our fundamental hope lies in affecting the change that is us.”

#26

This is a prayer, from the American Indian tradition:

“O Great Spirit whose voice I hear in the winds and whose breath gives life to all the world, hear me. I am small and weak – I need your strength and wisdom. Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset. Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice. Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people. Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock. I seek strength not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy, myself. Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes so when life fades as the fading sunset my spirit may come to you without shame.

#27

God of Light, support us all the day long, until the shadows lengthen, and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then, in thy mercy, grand us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last.  Amen.

#28

Birth is a beginning
And death a destination
But life is a journey
On going — and growing
From stage to stage
From childhood to maturity
And youth to age.
From innocence to awareness
And ignorance to knowing;
From foolishness to discretion
And then perhaps, to wisdom.
From Weakness to strength
Or strength to weakness
And, often, back again.
From health to sickness
And back we pray, to health again.
From offense to forgiveness,
From loneliness to love,
From joy to gratitude,
From pain to compassion,
And grief to understanding —
From fear to faith.
From defeat to defeat to defeat —
Until, looking backward or ahead,
We see that victory lies
Not as some high place along the way,
But in having made the journey, stage by stage.
A sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
But life is a journey,
A sacred pilgrimage —
Made stage by stage —
To life everlasting.