Hopeful graves

Graves. Crosses. Mold. And broken stones.
Green grass. Some flowers. A card.
Warm farewell. Deep grief and sorrow.
And hope - hope from above.

In this grave yard I find hope -
Hope for my soul after death.
The face of death is no more scary
'Cause it has been defeated, yes!

No more of shadows in the soul.
The light eternal was lit up
In me, in you, in all the faithful
Who have accepted Savior God.

The light in darkness of the grave yard.
The walk of faith through gloomy stones.
The crosses now are full of meaning.
It's no tradition anymore.

The cross - accepted or rejected
Stands on the grave, drawn on the stone.
The life - forgiven or percepted
In worldly way and lost along.

The hope - reached or found or given,
Or deemed when bitterness had grown.
I'm soaking in the mix of feelings
That's been poured out long ago.

The cross, the life, the hope are treasured
By me while walking through the graves.
And flood of gratitude is filling
The heart that lived to see these days -

Time with my wife and joy of marriage.
The love of hosts and Bookham fields.
For all these things my heart, though troubled,
Gives thanks to God, gives thanks to Thee!

Andre Anokhin
9.06.2018