'He is gone' by David Harkins 'Remember me' by Anthony Dowson

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘He is gone’ by David Harkins

(can be adapted to female i.e she her)

You can shed tears that he is gone,

or you can smile because he has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back,

or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him,

or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember only that he is gone,

or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back.

Or you can do what he'd want:

smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

‘Remember me’ by Anthony Dowson

Speak of me as you have always done.

Remember the good times, laughter, and fun.

Share the happy memories we've made.

Do not let them wither or fade.

I'll be with you in the summer's sun

And when the winter's chill has come.

I'll be the voice that whispers in the breeze.

I'm peaceful now, put your mind at ease.

I've rested my eyes and gone to sleep,

But memories we've shared are yours to keep.

Sometimes our final days may be a test,

But remember me when I was at my best.

Although things may not be the same,

Don't be afraid to use my name.

Let your sorrow last for just a while.

Comfort each other and try to smile.

I've lived a life filled with joy and fun.

Live on now, make me proud of what you'll become.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘Remember me’ by Margaret Mead

To the living, I am gone.

To the sorrowful, I will never return.

To the angry, I was cheated.

But to the happy, I am at peace.

And to the faithful, I have never left.

I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.

So as you stand upon a shore, gazing at a beautiful sea – remember me.

As you look in awe at a mighty forest and its grand majesty – remember me.

As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity – remember me.

Remember me in your heart, your thoughts, your memories of the times we loved, the

times we cried, the times we fought, the times we laughed.

For if you think of me, I will never be gone.

‘Remember me’ by Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you planned:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

'Let me go' by Christina Rossetti

When I come to the end of the road

And the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom filled room

Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little, but not for long

And not with your head bowed low

Remember the love that once we shared

Miss me, but let me go.

For this is a journey we all must take

And each must go alone.

It's all part of the master plan

A step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick at heart

Go to the friends we know.

Laugh at all the things we used to do

Miss me, but let me go.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘Do not stand at my grave and weep’ by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

‘In the garden at dusk’ by Joyce Grenfell

In the cool of the garden when the evening draws in

Serenity waits where the shadows begin

In the fragrance of dusk and the murmur of clover

The concerns that we carried pass peacefully over

Flowers in their fullness shed blessings about

And the turmoil of living fades quietly out

Hope glimmers through each evening star

And our cares will shrink to the size that they are.

‘After glow’ by Amelia Josephine Barr

I’d like the memory of me to be a happy one.

I’d like to leave an after glow of smiles when life is done.

I’d like to leave an echo, whispering softly down the ways,

Of happy times and laughing times and bright and sunny days.

I’d like the tears of those who grieve, to dry before the sun.

Of happy memories that I leave when life is done.

‘Still’ by Char Marks

Listen. There is this silence now. This stillness.

Gradually we will get used to it. But, for now,

It is strange. You have left such a gap.

Our world is in shock, holding its breath

But listen closer – all your laughter, all your love

is still ringing out. Still holding us.

All our memories of you are still with us.

All the love we shared is still in every one of us.

And although we ache from this loss of you,

you will always be here – as still and steady,

and fierce, as any star.

Look. You are shining

bright through all our skies.

We thank you

for sharing your life with us.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘I’d like to think’ by Edgar A Guest

I’d like to think when life is done

That I had filled a needed post

That here and there I’d paid my fare

With more than idle talk and boast

That I had taken gifts divine

The breath of life and manhood free

And tried to use them now and then

In service to my fellow man.

‘What is success?’ by Ralph Waldo Emerson

What is success?

To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate the beauty;

To find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a

redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.

This is to have succeeded!

‘A poem’ by Ewan McColl (taken from the lyrics of Joy of Living)

Take me to some high place

Of heather, rock or ling

Scatter my dust and ashes

Feed me to the wind

So that I will be

Part of all you see

The air you are breathing

I’ll be part of the curlew’s cry

And the soring hawk

The blue milkwort

And the sundew hung with diamonds

I’ll be riding the gentle wind

That blows through your hair

Reminding you of how we shared

In the joy of living

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

Author unknown

Have faith in love and do not fear the sadness

that comes when someone has gone away,

for love is deeper than the deepest sorrow,

its light can reach beyond the darkest day.

Have faith in love for love is sure and constant;

A tie too strong for time and loss to sever.

And for those who love there are no final partings,

Where love has been there love will be forever.

‘When I am gone’ by Lyman Hancock

When I come to the end of my journey,

And I travel my last weary mile.

Just forget if you can, that I ever frowned

And remember only my smile.

Forget unkind words I have spoken:

Remember some good I have done.

Forget that I ever had heartache

And remember I've had loads of fun.

Forget that I've stumbled and blundered

And sometimes fell by the way.

Remember I have fought some hard battles

And won, ere the close of the day.

Then forget to grieve for my going,

I would not have you for a day,

But in summer just gather some flowers

And remember the place where I lay.

And come in the shade of the evening

When the sun paints the sky in the west

Stand for a few moments beside me

And remember only my best.

From a Sympathy card

Memories are special, recall them everyday.

They’re always there within your heart and cannot fly away.

Remember all the special times you shared throughout the years.

And those memories of happiness will wipe away the tears.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

'I’m there within your heart' Author unknown

Right now I'm in a different place,

And though we seem apart,

I'm closer than I ever was,

I'm there within your heart.

I'm with you when you greet each day,

And while the sun shines bright,

I'm there to share the sunsets too,

I'm with you every night.

I'm with you when the times are good

To share a laugh or two.

And if a tear should start to fall,

I'll still be there for you.

And when the day arrives

That we no longer are apart,

I'll smile and hold you close to me,

Forever on my heart

‘My funeral’ by Wendy Cope

I hope I can trust you, friends, not to use our relationship

As an excuse for an unsolicited ego-trip.

I have seen enough of them at funerals and they make me cross.

At this one, though deceased, I aim to be the boss.

If you are asked to talk about me for five minutes, please do not go on for eight.

There is a strict timetable at the crematorium and nobody wants to be late.

If invited to read a poem, just read the bloody poem. If requested

To sing a song, just sing it, as suggested,

And don’t say anything. Though I will not be there,

Glancing pointedly at my watch and fixing the speaker with a malevolent stare.

Remember that this was how I always reacted

When I felt that anybody’s speech, sermon or poetry reading was becoming too

protracted.

Yes, I was intolerant, and not always polite

And if there aren’t many people at my funeral, it will serve me right.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘I will not die an unlived life’ by Dawna Markova

I will not die an unlived life.

I will not live in fear

of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days,

to allow my living to open me,

to make me less afraid,

more accessible;

to loosen my heart

until it becomes a wing,

a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk my significance,

to live so that which came to me as seed

goes to the next as blossom,

and that which came to me as blossom,

goes on as fruit.

‘Instruction’ by Arnold Compton

When I have moved beyond you in the adventure of life,

Gather in some pleasant place and there remember me

With spoken words, old and new.

Let a tear fall if you will, but let a smile come quickly

For I have loved the laughter of life.

Do not linger too long with your solemnities.

Go eat and talk, and when you can,

Follow a woodland trail, climb a high mountain,

Sleep beneath the stars, swim a cold river,

Chew the thoughts of some book

Which challenges your soul.

Use your hands some bright day

To make a thing of beauty

Or to lift someone's heavy load.

Though you mention not my name,

Though no thought of me crosses your mind,

I shall be with you.

For these have been the realities of my life for me.

And when you face some crisis with anguish,

When you walk alone with courage,

When you choose your path of right,

When you give yourself in love,

I shall be very close to you.

I have followed the valleys,

I have climbed the heights of life.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘I think of you’ by Humanist Celebrant Christopher Geake

I think of you as I gently drift into sleep at the end of the day.

When I wake in the darkness of the night,

I think of you.

As the new day begins,

I think of you.

Many times through the day,

distracted from my tasks and concerns,

I think of you.

As I depart this life, I shall be thinking of you.

And though you left before me,

you will live, as long as I live,

as I lovingly think of you and all you meant to me.

That's why, in everything I do,

I think of you.

‘I am there’ by Iris Hesselden

Look for me when the tide is high

And the gulls are wheeling overhead

When the autumn wind sweeps the cloudy sky

And one by one the leaves are shed

Look for me when the trees are bare

And the stars are bright in the frosty sky

When the morning mist hangs on the air

And shorter darker days pass by.

I am there, where the river flows

And salmon leap to a silver moon

Where the insects hum and the tall grass grows

And sunlight warms the afternoon

I am there in the busy street

I take you hand in the city square

In the market place where the people meet

In your quiet room - I am there

I am the love you cannot see

And all I ask is - look for me

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘The road not taken’ by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

‘Weep not for me’ Author unknown

Weep not for me though I have gone

Into that gentle night

Grieve if you will, but not for long

Upon my soul’s sweet flight

I am at peace, my soul’s at rest

There is no need for tears

For with your love I was so blessed

For all those many years

There is no pain, I suffer not

The fear is now all gone

Put now these things out of your thoughts

In your memory, I live on

Remember not my fight for breath

Remember not the strife

Please do not dwell upon my death

But celebrate my life

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘One at rest’ Author unknown

Think of me as one at rest,

for me you should not weep

I have no pain, no troubled thoughts

for I am just asleep.

The living thinking me that was,

is now forever still

And life goes on without me now,

as time forever will.

If your heart is heavy now

because I've gone away

Dwell not long upon it friend

For none of us can stay.

Those of you who liked me,

I sincerely thank you all

And those of you who loved me,

I thank you most of all.

And in my fleeting lifespan,

as time went rushing by

I found some time to hesitate,

to laugh, to love, to cry.

Matters it now if time began

If time will ever cease?

I was here, I used it all,

and now I am at peace.

‘What will matter’ by Michael Josephson

Live a life that matters.

Ready or not, someday it will all come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won’t matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you lived, at the

end.

It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant

Even your gender and skin colour will be irrelevant.

So what will matter?

How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built; not what you got, but what

you gave.

What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught.

What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those who loved

you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.

It’s not a matter of circumstance, but of choice.

Choose to live a life that matters.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘It couldn’t be done’ by Edgar Guest

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done

But he with a chuckle replied

That ‘maybe it couldn’t,’ but he would be one

Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin

On his face. If he worried he hid it.

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn’t be done, and he did it!

Somebody scoffed: ‘Oh, you’ll never do that;

At least no one ever has done it;’

But he took off his coat and he took off his hat

And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,

Without any doubting or quiddit,

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,

There are thousands to prophesy failure,

There are thousands to point out to you, one by one

The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,

Just take off your coat and go to it;

Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing

That ‘cannot be done,’ and you’ll do it.

‘You Meant So Much’ by Cassie Mitchell

You meant so much to all of us

You were special and that's no lie

You brightened up the darkest day

And the cloudiest sky

Your smile alone warmed hearts

Your laugh was like music to hear

I would give absolutely anything

To have you well and standing near

Not a second passes

When you're not on our minds

Your love we will never forget

The hurt will ease in time

Many tears I have seen and cried

They have all poured out like rain

I know that you are happy now

And no longer in any pain.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘Funeral Blues’ by W H Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

‘Autumn’ by Rainer Maria Rilke

The leaves are falling, falling as from far off,

as though far gardens withered in the skies;

they are falling with denying gestures.

And in the nights the heavy earth is falling

from all the stars down into loneliness.

We are all falling. This hand falls.

And look at others; it is in them all.

And yet there is One who holds this falling

endlessly gently in his hands.

‘If I should go’ by Joyce Grenfell

If I should go before the rest of you

Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone

Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice

But be the usual selves that I have known

Weep if you must

Parting is hell

But life goes on

So sing as well

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

'Death Is Nothing At All' by Henry Scott-Holland

Death is nothing at all.

It does not count.

I have only slipped away into the next room.

Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.

I am I, and you are you,

and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.

Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.

Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.

Put no difference into your tone.

Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me.

Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.

Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same as it ever was.

There is absolute and unbroken continuity.

What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you, for an interval,

somewhere very near,

just round the corner.

All is well.

Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.

One brief moment and all will be as it was before.

How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

‘A Life Well Lived’ Author Unknown

A life well lived is a precious gift

Of hope and strength and grace,

From someone who has made our world

A brighter, better place

It’s filled with moments, sweet and sad

With smiles and sometimes tears,

With friendships formed and good times shared

And laughter through the years.

A life well lived is a legacy

Of joy and pride and pleasure,

A living, lasting memory

Our grateful hearts will treasure

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘We Saw You Getting Tired’ by Frances and Kathleen Coelho

(adapted from God Saw You Getting Tired)

We saw you getting tired

And a cure was not to be –

So I put my arms around you

And whispered, you’re safe with me.

With tearful eyes I watched you suffer

And saw you fade away –

Although I loved you dearly

I could not make you stay.

A golden heart stopped beating

Your beautiful smile at rest –

Life broke my heart that day

When time took one of the best.

It’s lonesome here without you

I miss you so each day –

My life just isn’t the same

Ever since you went away.

When days are sad and lonely

And everything goes wrong –

I imagine you gently whispering,

Cheer up and carry on.

Each time I see your picture

You seem to smile and say –

Don’t cry, I live on in your heart

And will do every day.

‘Sentiments of Grief’ by Lisa Lopresti

Only in loss,

do we understand value.

Tears are the words,

we cannot speak,

of the pain and shock of what has

happened and the loss of whatever will.

Our mourning is our love,

unable to reach you.

We miss the future,

you were supposed to have.

Our grief changes over time,

but never will it end.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘The Dash’ by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak

At the funeral of a friend

He referred to the dates on her tombstone

From the beginning to the end

He noted that first came her date of her birth

And spoke the following date with tears,

But she said what mattered most of all

Was the dash between those years

For that dash represents all the time

That she spent alive on earth.

And now only those who loved her

Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own;

The cars, the house, the cash,

What matters is how we live and love

And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard.

Are there things you’d like to change?

For you never know how much time is left,

That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough

To consider what’s true and real

And always try to understand

The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,

And show appreciation more

And love the people in our lives

Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,

And more often wear a smile

Remembering that this special dash

Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read

With your life’s actions to rehash

Would you be proud of the things they say

About how you spent your dash?

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘Farewell, Sweet Dust’ by Elinor Wylie

Now I have lost you, I must scatter

All of you on the air henceforth;

Not that to me it can ever matter

But it‘s only fair to the rest of the earth.

Now especially, when it is winter

And the sun‘s not half as bright as it was,

Who wouldn‘t be glad to find a splinter

That once was you, in the frozen grass?

Snowflakes, too, will be softer feathered,

Clouds, perhaps, will be whiter plumed;

Rain, whose brilliance you caught and gathered,

Purer silver have resumed.

Farewell, sweet dust; I never was a miser:

Once, for a minute, I made you mine:

Now you are gone, I am none the wiser

But the leaves of the willow are as bright as wine.

‘The Family Tree’ Author Unknown

A limb has fallen from the family tree.

I keep hearing a voice that says, ‘Grieve not for me’.

Remember the best times, The laughter, the song.

The good life I lived while I was strong.

Continue my heritage, I'm counting on you.

Keep smiling and surely the sun will shine through.

My mind is at ease, my soul is at rest.

Remembering all, how I truly was blessed.

Continue traditions, no matter how small.

Go on with your life, don’t worry about falls

I miss you all dearly, so keep up your chin.

Until the day we’re together again.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘My Memory Library’ by Sarah Blackstone

Imagine if I was given one moment,

just a single slice of my past.

I could hold it close forever,

and that moment would always last.

I'd put the moment in a safe,

within my heart's abode.

I could open it when I wanted,

and only I would know the code.

I could choose a time of laughing,

a time of happiness and fun.

I could choose a time that tried me

through everything I've done.

I sat and thought about what moment

would always make me smile.

One that would always push me

to walk that extra mile.

If I'm feeling sad and low,

if I'm struggling with what to do,

I can go and open my little safe

and watch my moment through.

There are moments I can think of

that would lift my spirits every time.

The moments when you picked me up,

when the road was hard to climb.

For me to only pick one moment

to cherish, save and keep

is proving really difficult,

as I've gathered up a heap!

I've dug deep inside my heart,

found the safe and looked inside

There was room for lots of moments;

in fact, hundreds if I tried.

I'm building my own little library,

embedded in my heart,

for all the moments spent with you

before you had to part.

I can open it up whenever I like,

pick a moment and watch it through,

My little library acts as a promise

I'll never ever forget you.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘Do not go gentle into that good night’ by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

‘They sit together on the porch’ by Wendell Berry

They sit together on the porch, the dark

Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.

Their supper done with, they have washed and dried

The dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,

Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.

She sits with her hands folded in her lap,

At rest. They do not speak,

And when they speak at last it is to say

What each one knows the other knows. They have

One mind between them, now, that finally

For all its knowing will not exactly know

Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding

Goodnight, and which sits on a while alone.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

Tree sensibility

IFOR AP GLYN

BARDD CENEDLAETHOL CYMRU / NATIONAL POET OF WALES

Commissioned by the Welsh Government to mark their announcement that three

commemorative woodlands would be planted in memory of those lost to COVID in

Wales.

What are our lives, but showers of leaves?

And last year an autumn, grindingly long…

Today, sharp sunlight

of not-quite-spring

bleaches birch skeletons

against a sky painfully blue.

And we come here,

trampling the triggers of fallen twigs…

then, we grow still,

as we breathe with the trees…

A leaf will fall;

twisting and flaunting;

we join its orbits gently,

swimming in memories.

We can be made whole

here, in this ‘thin place’,

between clay-bound roots and wind-bound boughs,

between body and soul…

And the oaks will soon

sail on their seasons,

unfurling their glory

through churches of green,

sieving the sun

into the shadows below,

and our grief will wear new colours,

as it must…

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

'I Heard Your Voice In the Wind Today' Author unknown

I heard your voice in the wind today

and I turned to see your face.

The warmth of the wind caressed me

as I stood silently in place.

I felt your touch in the sun today

as its warmth filled the sky.

I closed my eyes for your embrace

and my spirit soared high.

I saw your eyes in the windowpane

as I watched the falling rain.

It seemed as each raindrop fell

it quietly said your name.

I held you close in my heart today

it made me feel complete.

You may have died.... but you are not gone

you will always be a part of me.

As long as the sun shines...

the wind blows...

the rain falls...

You will live on inside of me forever

for that is all my heart knows.

Poems

Helen van Rijs, Humanists UK www.humanist.org.uk/helenvanrijs

‘There are no boring people in this world’ by Yevgeny Yevtushenko.

There are no boring people in this world.

Each fate is like the history of a planet.

And no two planets are alike at all.

Each is distinct – you simply can’t compare it.

If someone lived without attracting notice

and made a friend of their obscurity –

then their uniqueness was precisely this.

Their very plainness made them interesting.

Each person has a world that’s all their own.

Each of those worlds must have its finest moment

and each must have its hour of bitter torment –

and yet, to us, both hours remain unknown.

When people die, they do not die alone.

They die along with their first kiss, first combat.

They take away their first day in the snow …

All gone, all gone – there’s just no way to stop it.

There may be much that’s fated to remain,

but something – something leaves us all the same.

The rules are cruel, the game nightmarish –

it isn’t people but whole worlds that perish.