The Light

This is a poem my mother wrote.  Here’s her story about it: 

A few years before my husband died, we bought a cemetery lot in Conyers where his father and grandparents were burried.  Charles was still in a busy pastorate, but late one afternoon we finally went down to see the lot and to visit his mother who lived nearby.  As it began to get dark in the cemetery, I noticed lights going on in the homes near the cemetery.  It seemed like a parable to me, comparable to parents leaving lights on at night for their children.  I wrote:

The Light

My father always left a light  for me …
Against the nighttime shadows
Lovingly

He left the door unlocked
It opened wide
And I could safely find
My way inside

Beyond the grave
I see a light . . . I see
The Light of home.

God left a light for me
So I can walk through death
With faith . . . not fear
I see the lights of home
And God is near!

~RBS, 1980~