If I should die, then shed no tears for me,
No ragged gasps, no passioned bouts of rage;
Upon some windswept field I shall not be,
No stone-faced mourners weeping at my grave.
It was enough that I once spoke your name
And saw the sunrise play upon your face;
Enough for me to feel your touch, aflame,
Enough to hear your voice and share your space.
So I shall die at peace, and with a sigh,
As one whose sleep holds certainty of dreams,
No more tormented by the how and why
Or balancing the meeting of extremes.
Then shed no tears for me, but tears of joy,
That what we built, the world could not destroy.
—
© Tom Ling, 2014