Time does not grow over the deeply rooted sorrows
of the heart’s garden.
I wish that stars could explain how they manage to
keep shining after their deaths.
Something about light years,
but the heart lies in shadow,
always in shadow.

I have visited your grave site and never once
felt it was appropriate for me to stand there
awkwardly time-bound in the presence of your
eternal absence.
And our daughter with her small grave marker
got there before you.
Did she welcome you as she lay there
by the big oak tree and tell you that it is a
peaceful place to be?

There are scars on this earthly heart
now that you have played your part
on this old ball of dirt and stone,
leaving me so long alone.
Do you visit me at night in dreams
and watch me in my plans and schemes?
If so, you know I usually fail to
do the things that help me to be true.

I remain a constant sinner,
repentant one and on my knees
and hope that angels take the breeze
and send me hope and send me healing.
A sign from you would send me reeling.
Call down to me and let me know that
in the Garden of Love you grow.
The garden not seen here on this plane
that is covered by its mortal stain.
Be here and keep me faithful till
I join you on that peaceful hill.

Vicki Woodyard