By Carol Jo Horn

"Do not stand at my grave and weep," you said.
"I'll not be there. I will not sleep."
But whether you are on the breeze
or in the wave,
Whether your cry is in the gull
or your light in the sun,
I still cannot call you on the phone
Or go to your door and ring.
I cannot feel your strong touch
Or hear your voice
Or hug and be hugged.
It is me I weep for, my dear, not you.
You walked into my life and never left.
You took residence in my heart and there you sit.

Wind changes the shape of sand.
Loss changes the shape of my soul.
I write your name in the sand
Gulls come to ask,
"Who is this name?"
I say,
"God sent him here to be his best
Then washed him away with the tide.
He comes again when I write his name
Resurrecting him for a moment in time."