If this be love

A person dies, someone you love.
Mother, father, spouse, sis, brother.
Then this headline, which today blared,
“Girl, 9, dies in bus accident.”
Oh, dear God, who can bear such news?
How could any of us survive?
That any do, is miracle.
I weep to think of deaths I’ve known.
And yet. And yet. Perhaps it’s true
That for our God, all are alive.
I know not what that means, except
Even when I’m long forgotten,
Just a tombstone name, in some book—
I’m alive, you’re alive, and all
Who’ve ever lived, in him somehow
Live, and move, and have our being.