Lay Not A Rose Upon My Grave: A Poem to the Living

First, allow me to say that there are many occasions when leaving flowers at a grave is the right thing to do. Sometimes it is what a grieving heart needs to do. It is not wrong to bring flowers to the grave of a loved one.

This poem was inspired by an act of love that gave roses to grieving family and friends.

We had just finished the graveside service for Chuck Morris. After the pastor spoke the final "Amen," the eldest son of the family stepped forward, plucked the biggest red rose from the bouquet resting on the coffin, and offered it to his mother, who accepted it with gratitude and a hug. It was a quiet, beautiful gesture--and exactly what Mr. Morris would have wished for his wife in that moment. She then turned to the rest of us and invited each of us to take a rose. When I left the body of my friend at the grave on that steely winter day, my rose was a source of tender comfort to me. As I watched it bloom over the next weeks, a poem took shape.

This poem is written from the perspective of the one who has died and gone home to Jesus, and who now speaks to those friends still living on earth.
______________________

Lay Not A Rose Upon My Grave 

Lay not a rose upon my grave,

Dear friend, when I leave you

For judging twixt the two of us

I have the better view

 

In realms of pleasures evermore

Wrapped in Divine embrace

What earthen rose could e’er outshine

The Rose of Sharon’s face

 

But give the bloom to earthbound friends

And to their comfort see

With Jesus walking by my side

Eternal joys wait me

 

Please seek the welfare of my kin

Give them this flower of love

Pray that their eyes look up to Him

Who gives grace from above

 

Lay not a rose upon my grave

When from this earth I part

Friend, take and keep it for yourself—

A gift from Heaven’s heart

 

 

A Pause: A Poem for Chuck Morris

Flowers at Wild River State Park

The best friendship in this world is like an ongoing conversation, one that you can pick up where you left off before you got interrupted. I know because I have been part of a conversation that span 28 years. Even though Chuck and Linda Morris were much older than me, the friendship they offered to me as young girl was rich and sincere. They were kindred spirits, sharing good books, encouraging words, and refreshing hikes in the woods. While my marriage and children eventually meant that our visits happened less often, these friends happily jumped into our busy lives whenever the opportunity came, blessing even our youngest son, Nathaniel Charles, with a ready smile and listening ear. And they always ready on the other end of the phone to talk and pray about everything.

Mr. Morris died last week. 

He is now with Christ, and we are left here. While I struggle with words, with everything I wish I could say or ask him now, I take a breath and pause. This is not the end of our conversation. It is a pause. By grace, through faith in Jesus' saving work, this friendship will not end with death. Someday we will be together again, this time where the fellowship will never end.

What follows is a poem exploring this hope, written to Mr. Morris before his death as my farewell to a very dear friend.

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A Pause

A pause is nothing new to us.
We’ve had many of them before—
         A flash of scarlet tanager;
         A song of phoebee;
         A parting of trees to wildflower vistas—
Each glimpse of glory a break in sentences,
A sharpening of thoughts,
A divine redirection of conversation.

A pause is nothing new to us.
We’ve had many of them before—
         Visits spaced far apart,
         Interrupted by weddings, by babies,
         Interrupted by children who grow into talkers—
Eager and energetic,
The young boy who shares your name most of all.
A Providential irony to brighten the days.
(Maybe someday he will pause to breathe?)

A pause is nothing new to us.
We’ve had many of them before—
         Silences in prayers;
         Humble petitions spoken;
         Followed by a humble waiting—
An accepting of the Father’s will,
By living in faith.
Surely God will do what is best.

But now we come to a new pause.
One we’ve never done before—
         When you are called to greater Pleasure
         More vivid Glory
         A Home not here—
And we will be left to wonder,
What would he think?
What would he say?

We will have to live in that pause,
For now, but not forever—
         Only until we are called ourselves
         To our Greatest Friend,
         To our forever Home.
There we will be together again,
Fully seeing,
Fully knowing,
In a life never paused again.