Death is but a wardrobe door

I came across this lovely poem written by Dr Mark Stibbe for his friend Ginny, which was read to her
every evening in the weeks before she died and that Dr Stibbes read at her funeral.

Death is but a wardrobe door
Where we leave our pain behind;
Agonies of flesh and mind
Washed like driftwood on the shore.

Thrones await at Paravel,
Crowns and sceptres for the blessed;
Journey's end, not traveller's rest,
Angels whisper, "All is well."

Through this portal healing comes,
Aslan's balm for earthly tears;
Dreamy days and timeless years,
Feasts and banquets, flutes and drums.

Fret no more, for in a breath,
Earth's long winter days will cease;
Narnia's woods are stilled with peace,
Aslan's roar has conquered death.

Earth's restricted time and space 
Loose their lifelong hold on you;
Seize the handle, walk on through,
Take his paw and kiss his face.

Friends and animals you love
Cheer and bark with one accord;
Joining with their Lion Lord.
"Home at last, beyond, above." 

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