Reflections
Poetry & Prose related to end of life.
Epitaph
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When I die
Give what's left of me away to children And old men that wait to die. And if you need to cry, Cry for your brother Walking the street beside you. And when you need me, Put your arms around anyone And give them What you need to give to me. I want to leave you something, Something better than words or sounds. Look for me In the people I've known or loved, And if you cannot give me away, At least let me live on your eyes And not on your mind. You can love me most by letting Hands touch hands, By letting bodies touch bodies, And by letting go of children That need to be free. Love doesn't die, people do. So, when all that's left of me is love, Give me away. I'll see you at home in the earth. ~ Merrit Malloy |
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Notice
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The Summer Day |
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This evening, the sturdy Levis
I wore every day for over a year and which seemed to the end in perfect condition, suddenly tore. How or why I don’t know, but there it was--a big rip at the crotch. A month ago my friend Nick walked off the racquetball court showered got into his street clothes, and halfway home collapsed and died. Take heed you who read this and drop on your knees now and again like the poet Christopher Smart and kiss the earth and be joyful and make much of your time and be kindly to everyone, even to those who do not deserve it. For although you may not believe it will happen, you too will one day be gone. I, who’s Levis, ripped at the crotch for no reason assure you that such is the case. Pass it on. ~ Steve Kowit |
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper I mean-- the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-- who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don’t know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I’ve been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? ~ Mary Oliver |
Collaboration
Despair shows us the limit of our own imagination.Imagination shared creates collaboration,and collaboration creates community,and community inspires social change." ~ Terry Tempest Williams
High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there, I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through the footless halls of air. Up, up the long, delirious burning blue I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or even eagle flew. And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. ~ John Gillespie Magee Jr. Turn Again to Life
If I should die and leave you here a while,
Be not like others sore undone, who keep long vigil by the silent dust. For my sake turn again to life and smile, Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do something to comfort other hearts than mine. Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine and I perchance may therein comfort you. ~ Mary Lee Hall For Katrina’s Sun Dial
Time is too slow for those who wait,
Too swift for those who fear, Too long for those who grieve, Too short for those who rejoice, But for those who love, time is Eternity. ~ Henry Van Dyke |
Death is Nothing At All
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again! ~ Harry Scott-Holland |