By: Denny

My intention for this posting was to write my thoughts out as in previous times. I knew what I wanted to say, but nothing came together. I put my ideas on the shelf for a week mulling it over in my mind. Finally, I decided to give it another go. As I began to write, it seemed more like a poem, so I continued in that format and the following is the result. The subject matter is often avoided, but sooner or later it’s a reality we all will face someday.

I walk the ground among the graves of those beneath their stone,

Surrounded by so many, and yet I am alone.

Pretty flowers everywhere, a deaf-like silence fills the air.

Name upon name that I do not know, but wait . . . . why isn’t that old Joe?

Placed to lie there in the shade, while the memory of him begins to fade.

A common fate the dead all share, generations pass and there’s none left to care.

To place some flowers on the ground above, and recall memories of those once loved.

Father, mother, daughter, son, grandpa, and grandma too,

Aunt, uncle, cousin, and a friend to name just a few,

Their voices now silent as they lay ‘neath the morning dew.

Oh, the stories that could be told by those within these gates,

If only there was a key to unlock the Dash Between the Dates.

That little dash would tell it all, of everything they’ve done,

With the life God gave to each of them to live beneath the sun.

Did they accomplish much, acquiring great wealth, status, and fame,

Does their legacy live on as history records their name.

Many fought for our country, defending the red, white, and blue,

Laying down their lives for those they never knew.

Most were probably just content to be, living a simple life like you and me.

Of all the pursuits that mankind can make, tis sure in the end nothing they will take.

Vanities of vanities the wisest man said, for all are made equal when listed with the dead.

Another dash I look to see but it’s hidden from my sight,

It belongs beside the second date adjacent on the right.

I know it’s there, . . . . though I can’t see it plainly,

The dash that I’m referring to is called eternity.

Many doubt, others shout and say there is no God,

But I wonder what the answer would be from those beneath the sod.

Would they speak of the joys of Heaven above, or the torments of hell below,

If they could, . . . . I’m sure they would, . . . .  inform us about what they know.

Would they replace their epitaph with a very urgent plea,

“Don’t come here!” or “It’s better than I imagined it would be!”

I once was young as you now are with dreams that filled my head,

I’m older now and life is sobering as I walk among the dead.

I’m so blessed to have lived this long, and I’m thankful for all I’ve got,

My heart turns sad as I see the grave of a child whose dash was merely a dot.

God only knows the time we have and what this life will bring,

But peace of mind belongs to those who’ve made Jesus Christ their king.

He’s the one who long ago died for sinners you and me,

Death was defeated, sin was atoned for, the grave couldn’t hold Him,

and new life is offered so abundantly and free.

I know my walk will come to an end, it may be near or far,

I’ll say goodbye to those I love and be placed in a big black car.

Some will weep as they plant me deep and say a eulogy,

A song a prayer as they linger there, then put the dirt over me.

My dash will be done, my dates now complete, forever set in stone,

Perhaps someday you’ll see it there as you walk by the graves alone.

(By the way, I really like gladiolas and forget-me-nots)

So, if by chance you notice that something is out of place,

A second dash beside the date filling in that empty space,

Don’t think it queer,  . . . . .  because I’m not here,

For I’ve gone to be with Jesus, and I now see Him face to face.

So, seek the Lord while He may be found, ere they lay you in the ground,

Because then, . . . . . it will be too late, to change the Dash Between the Dates.