In light of remembrance, in lieu of my new life, and lastly in honoring my grandmother’s pioneering spirit. This is a poem that was my grandmother’s very favorite taken from her journal in 1947 during what I think was her first year here in Alaska with my grandpa. They left behind their families in New York and ventured to Alaska together to raise their family. It seems I come from a long line of women (my mother included) who moved somewhere new to chop wood and carry water. Granted I live no pioneering life save for that of my own soul. But I still live my life in their imitation, and seek adventure whenever possible.

I also read this at my grandfather’s service after he passed away in memory of their life of adventure together. I appreciated this poem, but now I live it.

Let this be Heaven
H.R. Merrill

Oh god let this be heaven –
I do not ask for golden stairs
Or long for jasper walls
Nor do I sigh for pearly shore
Where twilight never falls;
Just leave me here beside these peaks
In this rough western land
I love this dear old world of thine –
Dear God, you understand.

Oh God let this be heaven –
I do not crave white stainless robes
I’ll keep those marked by toil;
Instead of straight and narrow walks
I love those trails soft with soil;
I have been healed by crystal streams
By those from snow-crowned peaks
Where dawn burns incense to the day
And paints the sky in streaks.

Dear God let this be heaven –
I do not ask for angel wings –
Just leave that old peak there
and let me climb till comes the night –
I want no golden stair.
Then when I say my last adieu
And all farewells are given
Just leave my spirit here somewhere –
Oh God let this be heaven.