What on earth am I leaving behind, God?
What will say, “I was here. I existed.”?
Here fell my tears,
These were my fears?
Will it be a cold granite tombstone?
Eventually visited by few, then by none?
A marker, not a song.
A grave, for how long?
Wanted to do something meaningful, Lord.
Write the great American novel.
Testify to Your existence.
Champion Your persistence.
Here I am Lord, nearing the end.
All I have is You who I cling to without apology.
You’re my meaning.
You’re my very being.
The veil between Heaven and Earth,
It’s thinner, finer, more delicate than we realize.
Walk me on, Lord.
To the crosswalk of this world.
If I leave nothing else to mark my life.
Nothing else to express who I was.
Let it be Your example.
Let it be a living sample.
d.f.a.v. 3/19/15
—Donna
fvbf 