Poems & Readings
Irish Blessing
by Unknown
May the roads rise up to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
May the rains fall soft upon fields
And until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.
My Candle Burns At Both Ends
by Edna St.Vincent Millay
My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends;
It gives a lovely light!
A Reflection on an Autumn Day
by Unknown
I took up a handful of grain and let it slip flowing through my fingers,
and I said to myself, This is what it is all about.
There is no longer any room for pretense.
At harvest time the essence is revealed – the straw and chaff are set aside,
they have done their job.
The grain alone matters – sacks of pure gold.
So it is when a person dies the essence of that person is revealed.
At the moment of death a person’s character stands out happy
She Is Gone (He Is Gone)
by David Harkins
You can shed tears that she is gone
Or you can smile because she has lived
You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her
Or you can be full of the love that you shared
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday
You can remember her and only that she is gone
Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
Or you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
You’ve Just Walked On Ahead Of Me
by Joyce Grenfell
You’ve just walked on ahead of me
And I’ve got to understand
You must release the ones you love
And let go of their hand.
I try and cope the best I can
But I’m missing you so much
If I could only see you
And once more feel your touch.
Yes, you’ve just walked on ahead of me
Don’t worry I’ll be fine
But now and then I swear I feel
Your hand slip into mine.
If I should die before the rest of you
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone
Nor, when I’m gone, speak in a Sunday voice,
But be the usual selves that I have known.
Weep if you must
Parting is hell.
But life goes on.
So sing as well.