November 10, 2011 § 10 Comments
Do not carve my name in concrete,
for what can it mean when I’ve ceased to breathe?
Called before I was born, my name rang true
but reborn in death, I am called anew
Do not scrawl me into relativity –
daughter, sister, relations fade
by era to anonymity.
Do not chip away at numbers,
dates of life and death
A thousand years one day to Him,
What could matter less?
No, simply assure me
As you return me
To the arms of my master
That I was what mattered:
Seven letters from an eternal trumpet
Simply write on my headstone beloved