Angels and Griots
I will not shed a single tear
For your death
I will not experience a single moment of despair
Because you are no longer here
I will not feel a second of sorrow
Because you have been called home
I will not be angry
Or distraught
Or believe you have left before your time
I will never allow myself to think of your death
As an injustice
God is not unjust
I will not hang my head in sadness
Because I am at peace
Knowing that you have found peace
I will not lose hope
Because I have accepted God’s plan and know,
There is no such thing as dying before your time
Sooner or later
One of us had to say goodbye to the other
It only made sense that you went home first
You have touched souls
Lifted spirits
Gave hope
And showed the world how to love
Even when the world forgot how to love you
And me,
I am a griot
A poet
A story teller
Left here to share the stories of your love
In hopes
That they will get it
Before our time runs out
I will not shed a single tear
For your death
Because it is our souls,
Hanging in the balance now
Posted on February 18, 2012, in Poetry and tagged Angels, Death, Griots, Poets. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.
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Though it has been quite some time since death has personally touched me, I’d hope that the next time it does, I feel this way. You express so well what is in my heart with such emotional clarity that it further illustrates how interconnected we all are. Thank you for sharing your gift and incites into humanity with us.
Thank you very much for the kind words and understanding. We are interconnected and that’s what makes it beautiful.
Some things are best said when they have been experienced.
Indeed your words connect all those who have lost some one special.
Thank you.
My sentiments……
DEATH
Cruel, cruel death
We have never met.
I only just heard
Of the fear in tears you said.
You’ve been about the herd
And oh the wonder you fed.
Who tells if you’re sent
When you only just left?
Bravo!!!
I remembered this poem I read as a child. It made such a deep impression that now, two decades later, I still remember enough lines verbatim to Google it.
(by Ruth Bell Graham)
God,
what a waste!
He was so needed
by us all
…by You.
and yet You kill,
it seems at will,
Your young,
Your trained,
Your highly skilled
(and not a few)–
Stephen first
…then James…
and…
O God!
our Savior, too.
Did I say
“waste”?
Forgive
the stupid words
we cry
in anguished haste.
The Gardener
plants
and reaps
with skill.
…it’s only
that we’re left here
still.
X X X
We ask because we don’t understand and most of the time not understanding hurts the most. But God’s timing is always perfect timing.
Nice and agreed, we want things to make sense and when they don’t we get lost.