The Rider On the River

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Tall Sea Grass

When I am gone and have ceased to be
On Kansas plain and green Missouri hill,
Just scatter ashes on the tall grass sea,
Where winds are strong and evening air is chill.

Don’t take the time to sing those songs too grim,
Just sling my soul up high toward one last God–
Think back and say: “I do remember him”–
Like dust I’ll blend softly into the sod.

Yet when there’s no remembrance of this life
In those we touched so many years from now,
That knowing will cut deep as any knife–
Immortality becomes us somehow.

And if we wish our words to swiftly pass,
We’ll write on wind and rain in tall sea grass.