06/05/2026
Across the road, the cemetery rests,
Silent stones standing watch beneath the sky.
Some mornings the wind drifts through the pines,
And some afternoons a funeral procession rolls by.
Black cars move slowly down the narrow lane,
Families carrying burdens too heavy for words.
I watch from my porch and bow my head,
Listening to sorrow that doesn’t need to be heard.
Not long ago, that road could have been mine.
Addiction had my name written on a stone.
I chased bottles, powders, and empty promises,
Thinking I was living while dying alone.
Now every funeral is a reminder,
Not of fear, but of mercy and grace.
A reminder that God reached into my darkness
And pulled me from that lonely place.
The cemetery teaches without speaking.
The graves preach sermons every day.
They tell me life is short and precious,
And tomorrow is never guaranteed to stay.
So when I see another family mourning,
And another casket lowered into the ground,
I thank God for one more sunrise,
For the recovery and freedom I have found.
Thank You, Lord, for the breath in my lungs.
Thank You for each sober day.
Thank You for carrying me through the valley
When I could not find my own way.
Across from death, I have learned to live.
Across from sorrow, I’ve discovered hope.
The cemetery reminds me where I was headed,
And God reminds me why I can cope.
The gravestones stand as witnesses,
To the lives that have come and gone.
And I stand as a witness too,
That by God’s grace, I am still carrying on.
Every funeral becomes a prayer,
Every tear a reason to believe.
Because I know the man I used to be,
And I know the man God helped me become to achieve.
So I’ll sit on this porch with gratitude,
Watching heaven paint the evening sky above.
Across from a cemetery, I am reminded daily
That recovery is a miracle born from love.
