by Paul Harwitz
I was still right young when Grandpa died.
In a dream not long after, he visited me from the Other Side.
He looked like the pictures of back when he was in his prime.
“Grandson, don’t mourn me any more. It was my time.”
“I miss you, Grandpa,” I said, trying to hide a tear.
“Grandson, I’m always around, even though I’m not here.
I’m in the little whirlwind that you’ll see appear and disappear.
I’m in the river’s ebb and flow, and the greening of the grass each year.”
“I’m just a little boy,” I said. “Who’ll teach me what to do?”
“You’ve got your parents, and your siblings, and your uncles, and your aunts.
You just listen to them, and to all the poems and songs and stories, too.
And remember not to hate anyone, no matter how much he yells and rants.”
“But you know so much! You still had so much to do!”
“No, Grandson, it was my time to go, and my life on Earth was through.
Besides, on the Other Side of the Great Divide, I’ve got the life that’s true.”
“Before you go back,” I asked, “tell what it’s like across the Great Divide.”
“There are no fences in Heaven. The range is free and wide.
The grasslands are all well-watered, there on the Other Side.
The buffalo number in the millions, as they thunder across the Plains.
And no cowpokes get struck by lightning as they ride herd when it rains.
“The wells never run dry, and the crops ripen in bounteous pride,
‘Cause there’s never a flood or a drought.
And our friends from the Tribes are happy to hunt, fish, and ride,
As freely as they please, all round about.
“There’s no war, or disease, no hatred, no strife.
We’re all God’s children, and know it, in the true life.
There’s no feuding, no squabbles, no scrambling for wealth.
There’s no injury or malady, and there’s only good health.
“There are no fences in Heaven. The range is free and wide.
The grasslands are all well-watered, there on the Other Side.
Now, when you wake up, you smile and do your chores,
‘Cause you don’t need to cry for me any more.”