Oak Grove Cemetery
I glanced aside as I walked past the graves,
Along the road beside the plotted hill.
A row of mausoleums crowned the ridge,
Where trees concealed the distant evening sun.
Then a red flash of unsuspected light
Leapt through the floral filigrees of a door,
Insisting that I go and peer inside:
A stained glass window at the other end,
Between me and the setting sun, revealed
A Celtic cross within a holly wreath;
And underneath it written were these words:
To live in hearts we leave behind at death,
Is not to die. I turned and walked away,
Then looked backward and murmured: Lazarus,
Come forth. And through the door he came as Lightó
All shrouded in the grave clothes of sunset.