71. Death is nothing at all…
I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still Call me by my old familiar name, Speak to me in the easy way 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 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 effort, without the ghost of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is absolutely unbroken continuity…. Why should I be out of your mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you for an interval, Somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.

72. Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep I am a 1,000 winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain, When you awaken in the morning’s hush, I am the swift uplifting rush, Of quiet birds in circled light, I am the soft star that shines at night, Do not stand at my grave and cry – I am not there; I did not die.

73. I am standing on the sea shore,
A ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean. She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her, Till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says: “She is gone.” Gone! Where? Gone from my sight that is all. She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination. The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says,” She is gone”, There are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout:” There she comes” – and that is dying. It is a horizon at the limits of our sight. Lift us up, Oh Lord, that we may see further.

74. Birth is a beginning
And death a destination- But life is a journey, A going — a growing from stage to stage from childhood to maturity and youth to age. From innocence to awareness and ignorance to knowing; From foolishness to discretion and then perhaps, to wisdom. From Weakness to strength or strength to weakness and, often, back again. From health to sickness and back we pray, to health again. From offense to forgiveness, From loneliness to love, From joy to gratitude, From pain to compassion, And grief to understanding — From fear to faith. From defeat to defeat to defeat — Until, looking backward or ahead, We see that victory lies, Not as some high place along the way, But in having made the journey, stage by stage. A sacred pilgrimage. Birth is a beginning – And death a destination. But life is a journey, A sacred pilgrimage — Made stage by stage — To life everlasting.

75. Look for me when the tide is high and the gulls are wheeling overhead when the
autumn wind sweeps the cloudy skyAnd one by one the leaves are shed look for me, when the trees are bare and the stars are bright in the frosty sky when the morning mist hangs on the air and shorter darker days pass by. I am there, where the river flows and salmon leap to a silver moon where the insects hum and the tall grass grows and sunlight warms the afternoon i am there in the busy street i take you hand in the city square in the market place where the people meet in your quiet room – I am there i am the love you cannot see and all i ask is – look for me.

76. My father kept a garden,A garden of the heart,he planted all the good things
there that gave my life it’s start. He turned me into sunshine and encouraged me to dream fostering and nurturing the seeds of self esteem and when the winds and rain came he protected me enough but not too much because he knew I’d need to stand up strong and tough his constant good example always taught me right from wrong markers for my pathway that will last a lifetime longI am now my Fathers garden, I am his legacy and I hope today he feels the love reflected back from me.

77. In one breath
Loving you came easy, Through the seasons of your life, The welcoming signs of spring pushing through, Winter’s blanket of darkness – was your smile, Like the shawl of warmth on summers first day – was your embrace, Autumn’s changing tones and views – was your patience
The crackle underfoot on a sky blue winter’s day making, Foot steps glisten and sparkle – was your joy and laughter, Missing you is so very hard. It is a pain so intense that I feel its sharpness, At every turning glance, glimpsing shadows at the door way without your silhouette, At the chair where you once sat, At your favourite cup now collecting dust, The touch of silence that has shrouded the house but loving you, even when your are not here can and will come easy – as life’s seasons change, There is and never will be, a day that will pass without the thought of you and your loving as i will Love and Miss you always in one breath.

78. Gone Too Soon
Like A Comet Blazing ‘Cross The Evening Sky Gone Too Soon Like A Rainbow Fading In The Twinkling Of An Eye Gone Too Soon Shiny And Sparkly And Splendidly Bright Here One Day Gone One Night Like The Loss Of Sunlight On A Cloudy Afternoon Gone Too Soon Like A Castle Built Upon A Sandy Beach Gone Too Soon Like A Perfect Flower That Is Just Beyond Your Reach Gone Too Soon Born To Amuse, To Inspire, To Delight Here One Day Gone One Night Like A Sunset Dying With The Rising Of The Moon Gone Too Soon.

79. Place me in your memory
Do not linger on me, Wasting days hoping on my return. I will not come here again, Do not silence my name speak of me when friends gather and in family times of love make me everlasting In the spirit of your being For through all the days of living I lived better for your love, Don’t martyr me or angel me of my bad points don’t be hard on me and wipe your tears and weep no more for me let me survive in your memory

80. Her smile is in the summer
her grace is in the breeze, She did not leave, she has not gone, ’tis only we that grieve, It doesn’t take a special day to bring you to our mind, A day without a thought of you is very hard to find, No longer here in our lives to share but in our hearts you’re always there, The parting and the heartaches no one can heal but the memories are for safe keeping so no one can steal.

81. If I could have you back for just one day
If I could have you back for just one day, There would be so many things I would love to say, If I could be with you for one whole day, To hold you close and know that you really are okay, If I had known that you would be gone forever, If I had known all those ties were going to be severed,
If I had known the pain, the loss and the ache, If I had known the difference without you would make. In the darkness you slipped away from us all, Now it’s just your memories that we have to recall, They say that parting is such sweet sorrow, But it’s the longing, the wondering, and how to cope with tomorrow, They say that grieving a child is the very worst, Because life’s plan is that the parents go first, Now all we have left are memories, the good times we had, We spend so much time in tears, pain and feeling so sad, So if we could have you back for just one day, You could let us know how to cope until we meet again some day, When we’ll be together as a family again when we’ll be happy and free from this awful pain, Oh it’s hard to live when your child has to die, Then to spend the rest of your life trying to say goodbye.

82. Something happened yesterday,
I let my daughter go, I felt the darkness fade away, Though I still loved her so. She needed to be free to find her way to peace at last. I let her go with love and tears, My time with her has passed. I mourned my daughter yesterday, Then I saw the light, it was the time to say, “Thank you my love, You can leave, its OK, its right.” I felt a weight drop off my mind, My baby’s pain had gone, her new beginnings started then, No time for me to mourn. Time for what she wanted to be, With total peace of mind. It seems my grief was holding her back from leaving this world behind, She needed to go to a better place, To rest in peace above. I couldn’t keep her here with me, So I gave her my blessings and love.

83. Tomorrow I’ll see…
The new dawn arise to greet a sleepy new world with cloudless blue skies… Not Today, Tomorrow I’ll see… The birds in their nests tending their young with their sweet morning song the flowers in spring dancing and swaying in the soft gentle breeze…Not Today, Tomorrow I’ll see… The branches on trees turning from brown to green with each opening bud. The laughter of children dancing and singing in emerald green fields… Not Today Tomorrow I’ll see… The setting of the sun over the calm crystal waters saying goodbye with golden red hues The diamond bright stars in the midnight blue velvet twinkling good night to the world… Not Today, Tomorrow I’ll see… What today hides form me but… Not Today.

84. Into the darkness and warmth of the earth
We lay you down into the sadness and smiles of our memories, We lay you down into the cycle of living and dying and rising again, We lay you down may you rest in peace, in fulfilment, in loving may you run straight home in God’s embrace, Into the freedom of wind and sunshine we let you go into the dance of the stars and the planets, We let you go into the wind’s breath and the hands of the star maker, We let you go we love you, we miss you, we want you to be happy, Go safely, go dancing, go running home.

85. Sometimes, when the sun goes down,
It seems it will never rise again …but it will! Sometimes, when you feel alone, It seems your heat will break in two …but it won’t. And sometimes, it seems it’s hardly worthwhile carrying on …but it is. For sometimes, when the sun goes down, It seems it will never rise again…But it does.

86. The world may never notice
If a snowdrop doesn’t bloom, Or even pause to wonder if the petals fall too soon. But every life that ever forms,
Or ever comes to be, Touches the world in some small way for all eternity.

87. That man is a success
who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and women and the love of children;
who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who leaves the world better than he found it, who has never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it; who looked for the best in others and gave the best he had.

88. Your mother is always with you…
She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She’s the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks. She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well. Your mother lives inside your laughter. She’s crystallised in every tear drop… She’s the place you came from,
you’re first home.. She’s the map you follow with every step that you take. She’s your first love and your first heartbreak…. and nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, not space… not even death…. will ever separate you from your mother…. You carry her inside you….

89. May I go now?
Do you think the time is right? May I say good-bye to pain filled days and endless lonely nights? I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. I’ve lived my life and, in faith, done my best an example tried to be. So can I take that step beyond and set my spirit free? I didn’t want to go at first. I fought with all my might. But something seems to draw me now to warm and loving light. I want to go. I really do. It’s very difficult to stay. But I will try as best I can to live just one more day. To give you more times to care for me and share your love and fears. I know you’re sad and afraid, because I see your tears. I’ll not be far, I promise that and hope you’ll always know that my spirit will be close to you wherever you may go. Thank you so for loving me. You know I love you too, that’s why it’s hard to say good-bye and end this life with you. So hold me now, just one more time and let me hear you say, because you care so much for me, you’ll let me go today.

90. We must live through the weary winter,
If we would value the Spring. And the woods must be cold and silent, Before the robins sing. The flowers must be buried in darkness, Before they can bud and bloom. And the sweetest and warmest sunshine, Comes after the storm and gloom. So the heart, from the hardest trial, Gains the purest joy of all. And from the lips that have tasted sadness, The sweetest songs will fall.For as peace comes after suffering, And love is reward of pain, So, after earth, comes heaven, And out of our loss, the gain.

91. Life is not measured by the breaths we take,but by the moments that take our breath away.

92. Whoever makes a garden
Has never worked alone. The rain has always found it The sun has always known. The wind has blown across it And helped to scatter seeds.
Whoever makes a garden should surely not complain, With someone like the sunshine and someone like the rain. And someone like the breezes to aid her in her toil. And someone likes the father who gave the garden soil. Whoever makes a garden has, oh, so many friends, The glory of the morning, The dew when daylight ends. For wind and rain and sunshine, And dew and fertile sod
And she who makes a garden works hand in hand with God.

93. – poem for dementia sufferers
You used to know us once mum; you used to say our names. We were so close together, before your illness came. We shared our tears and laughter, our rapport was so good. We only had to catch your eye, and you always understood. But now you don’t remember, we see that vacant gaze. To you we are just strangers, who help you through your days. We try not to let it hurt us, and of course it does. We only hope you understand the measure of our love. Sometimes we sense the “old you”, a smile, a laugh, a touch. If only you could say our names, that would mean so much.

94. My life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me; I cannot choose the colours he weaves so steadily. Often he weaves in sorrow but i in foolish pride forget he sees the upper and I, the lower side. But the dark threads are as needful in the weaver’s skilful hand as the threads of gold and silver in the pattern he has planned. Not till the loom is silent and the bobbins cease to fly, Shall He unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.

95. And if I go,
While you’re still here… Know that I live on, Vibrating to a different measure -behind a thin veil you cannot see through. I wait for the time when we can soar together again, -both aware of each other. Until then, live your life to its fullest. And when you need me, Just whisper my name in your heart, …I will be there.

96. The Four Candles
The first candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It reminds us of the depth of our love for you. This second candle represents our courage. To confront our sorrow, To comfort each other, To change our lives. This third candle we light in your memory. For the times we laughed, The times we cried, The times we were angry with each other, The silly things you did, The caring and joy you gave us.
This fourth candle we light for our love. We light this candle that your light will always shine. As we enter this holiday season and share this night of remembrance with our family and friends. We cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. We thank you for the gift your living brought to each of us. We love you. We remember you.

97. Though we never know
Where life will take us, I know it’s just a ride On the wheel. And we never know when death will shake us and we wonder how It will feel. So Goodbye my friend. I know I’ll never see you again. But the time together Through all the years, Will take away these tears. Its OK now – Goodbye my friend. I see a lot of things That makes me crazy, And I guess I held on to you, You could have run away And left – well maybe, But it wasn’t time And we both knew. So Goodbye My friend. I know I’ll never see you again. But the love you gave me Through all the years will take away these tears. I’m OK now – Goodbye my friend.

98. We thought of you with love today.
But that is nothing new. We thought about you yesterday. And days before that too. We think of you in silence. We often speak your name. Now all we have is memories. And your picture in a frame. Your memory is our keepsake. With which we’ll never part. God has you in his keeping.
We have you in our heart..

99. To “let go” does not mean to stop caring.
It means I can’t do it for someone else. To “let go” is not to cut myself off. It’s the realization that I can’t control another. To “let go” is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands. To “let go” is not to try to change or blame another. It’s to make the most of myself. To “let go” is not to care for, but to care about. To “let go” is not to fix, but to be supportive. To “let go” is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being. To “let go” is not to be in the middle, arranging all the outcomes, but to allow others to affect their own destinies. To “let go” is not to deny, but to accept. To “let go” is not to nag, scold, or argue, but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them. To “let go” is not to adjust everything to my desires, but to take each day as it comes and cherish myself in it. To “let go” is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future. To “let go” is to fear less and to love more.

100 She Is Gone (He Is Gone)
You can shed tears that she is gone
 or you can smile because she has lived
 you can close your eyes and pray that she will come back or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left
 your heart can be empty because you can’t see her or you can be full of the love that you shared
 you can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday 
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday
 you can remember her and only that she is gone
 or you can cherish her memory and let it live on 
you can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
 or you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.


101. Instructions
When I have moved beyond you in the adventure of life, 
Gather in some pleasant place and there remember me
 with spoken words, old and new. Let a tear if you will, but let a smile come quickly for I have loved the laughter of life. Do not linger too long with your solemnities. Go eat and talk, and when you can, Follow a woodland trail, climb a high mountain,
Walk along the wild seashore, 
Chew the thoughts of some book which challenges your soul. Use your hands some bright day to make a thing of beauty or to lift someone’s heavy load. Though you mention not my name,
Though no thought of me crosses your mind,
I shall be with you,
For these have been the realities of my life for me. And when you face some crisis with anguish. When you walk alone with courage,
 When you choose your path of right,
 I shall be very close to you. I have followed the valleys,
I have climbed the heights of life.

102. We Remember Him (We Remember Her)
When we are weary and in need of strength,
When we are lost and sick at heart, 
We remember him.
 When we have a joy we crave to share
When we have decisions that are difficult to make
When we have achievements that are based on his
 we remember him at the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter at the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring, 
We remember him at the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer
 at the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn,
We remember him. at the rising of the sun and at its setting, 
We remember him as long as we live, he too will live
 for he is now a part of us,
As we remember him. Adapted from the Yizkor Service.

103. Parable On Immortality
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and the sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, “There she goes.” Gone where? Gone from my sight…that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “There she goes”, there are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!”

104. Our memories build a special bridge
When loved ones have to part
 to help us feel were with them still
 and soothe a grieving heart they span the years and warm our lives
 preserving ties that bind our memories build a special bridge and bring us peace of mind
.

105. There is no night without a dawning
No winter without a spring
And beyond the dark horizon
 our hearts will once more sing…. 
For those who leave us for a while have only gone away
 out of a restless, care worn world
Into a brighter day
.

106. If I should die before the rest of you
If I should die and 
leave you here a while be not like others sore undone, 
who keep long vigils 
by the silent dust and weep.
 For my sake turn again
 to life and smile 
nerving thy heart
 and trembling hand to do
 something to comfort 
other hearts than thine.
 Complete these dear
 unfinished Tasks of mine, and I, perchance
 may there in comfort you.
 When I am dead, my dearest,
 Sing no sad songs for me plant thou no roses at my head, 
Nor shady cypress tree 
with showers and dewdrops wet and if thou wilt, remember and if thou wilt, forget..
 I shall not see the shadows,
 I shall not feel the rain, 
I shall not hear the nightingale 
sing on, as if in pain and dreaming through the twilight 
that doth not rise nor set,
 haply i may remember
 and haply may forget.
 At every turning of my life
 i came across
 Good friends,
 Friends who stood by me
 even when the time raced me by. My friends
 I smile and 
Bid you goodbye.
 No, shed no tears 
for I need them not
 all I need is your smile.
 If you feel sad 
do think of me
 for that’s what I’ll like.
 When you live in the hearts 
of those you love
 remember then
 you never die.


107. I carry your heart with me (I carry it in. my heart)
I carry your heart with me (i carry it in 
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
 i go you go, my dear and whatever is done
 by only me is your doing, my darling)
 i fear 
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want 
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
 and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
 and whatever a sun will always sing is you
 here is the deepest secret no body knows 
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
 and the sky of a tree called life, which grows 
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
 and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart 
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)


108. A Reflection on an Autumn Day
I took up a handful of grain and let it slip flowing through my fingers, and I said to myself this is what it is all about. There is no longer any room for pretence. At harvest time the essence is revealed – the straw and chaff are set aside, they have done their job. The grain alone matters – sacks of pure gold. So it is when a person dies the essence of that person is revealed. At the moment of death a person’s character stands out happy for the person who has forged it well over the years. Then it will not be the great achievement that will matter, nor, how much money or possessions a person has amassed. These like the straw and the chaff, will be left behind. It is what he has made of himself that will matter. Death can take away from us what we have, but it cannot rob us of who we are.

109. Footprints on the sands of time
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
 Life is but an empty dream! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And things are not what they seem. 
Life is real! Life is earnest!
 and the grave is not its goal 
dust thou art, to dust returnest,
 Was not spoken of the soul.
 Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 
Is our destined end or way, 
But to act, that each tomorrow
 find us farther than to-day.
 Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
 And our hearts, though stout and brave, 
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
 funeral marches to the grave. 
Trust no Future, however pleasant! 
Let the dead Past bury its dead! 
Act, — act in the living Present! 
Heart within, and God overhead! 
Lives of great men all remind us
 we can make our lives sublime, 
And, departing, leave behind us 
footprints on the sands of time footprints, that perhaps another,
 Sailing over life’s solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked
brother, 
Seeing, shall take heart again.
 Let us, then, be up and doing,
 With a heart for any fate, 
Still achieving, still pursuing,
 Learn to labor and to wait.

110. Readings With Faith

“You would know the secret of death. 
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? 
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot
 unveil the mystery of light. 
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, 
open your heart wide unto the body of life.
 For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
 In the depth of your hopes and desires 
lies your silent knowledge of the beyond and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow, your heart dreams of spring. 
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity… For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
 and what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, 
that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing and when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb and when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

111. Darling

You might forget the exact sound of her voice, Or how her face looked when sleeping. You might forget the sound of her quiet weeping curled into the shape of a half moon, When smaller than her self, she seemed already to be leaving before she left, when the blossom was on the trees
And the sun was out, and all seemed good in the world. I held her hand and sang a song from when I was a girl – Heil Ya Ho Boys, Let her go Boys And when I stopped singing she had slipped away, Already a slip of a girl again, skipping off, Her heart light, her face almost smiling. And what I didn’t know, or couldn’t see then, Was that she hadn’t really gone. The dead don’t go till you do, loved ones. The dead are still here holding our hands

112. Blessing for the Brokenhearted

There is no remedy for love but to love more. Let us agree for now that we will not say the breaking makes us stronger or that it is better to have this pain than to have done without this love. Let us promise we will not tell ourselves time will heal the wound, when every day our waking
opens it anew. Perhaps for now it can be enough to simply marvel at the mystery of how a heart so broken can go on beating, as if it were made
for precisely this—as if it knows the only cure for love is more of it, as if it sees the heart’s sole remedy for breaking is to love still, as if it trusts
that its own persistent pulse is the rhythm of a blessing we cannot begin to fathom but will save us nonetheless.

113. Adrift

Everything is beautiful and I am so sad. This is how the heart makes a duet of wonder and grief. The light spraying through the lace of the fern is as delicate as the fibers of memory forming their web around the knot in my throat. The breeze makes the birds move from branch to branch
as this ache makes me look for those I’ve lost in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh of the next stranger. In the very center, under
it all, what we have that no one can take away and all that we’ve lost face each other. It is there that I’m adrift, feeling punctured
by a holiness that exists inside everything. I am so sad and everything is beautiful.

114. Grief

Somewhere in the Sargasso Sea the water disappears into itself, hauling an ocean in. Vortex, how you repeat a single gesture, come round to find only yourself, a cup full of questions, perhaps some curl of wisdom, a bit of flung salt. You hold an absence at your center, as if it were a life.

115. All I can do, in what remains of my brief time,
is mention, to whoever cares to listen, that a woman once existed, who was kind and beautiful and brave, and I will not forget how the world was altered, beyond recognition, when we met.

116. The Dead

They’ve got a nerve, the dead, with their insufferable absences while we are left to dig deep for the funeral director’s order of service –
coffin, music, incomprehension – at the wake distant cousins devour pleasantries and leave early for trains. They are never alone, the dead, their unholy alliance with the loved relative, the stolen friend, the young, the beautiful, the doomed, injustice like a blind scythe whistling in the high field while we, resigned, fill in paperwork for doctor, registrar, florist, poet. They’ve got places to go, the dead, behind veils they steal, mysterious, incorporeal, a conspiracy of silence, raised and translated to grandeur, to questions no answer. Pressing your head against cold stone, you cannot move at the thought of clearing her room.

117. Absence

I visited the place where we last met. Nothing has changed, the gardens were well-tended, The fountains sprayed their usual steady jet, There was no sign that anything had ended And nothing to instruct me to forget. The thoughtless birds that shook out of the trees, Singing an ecstasy I could not share, Played cunning in my thoughts. Surely in these Pleasures there could not be a pain to bear or any discord shake the level breeze. It was because the place was just the same, That made your absence seem a savage force, For under all the gentleness there came An earthquake tremor: fountain, birds and grass were shaken by my thinking of your name.

118. Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned. Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you. Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust. A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost. The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,— They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world. Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

119. The Thing Is

to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you’ve held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs when grief weights you down like your own flesh only more of it, an obesity of grief, you think, How can a body withstand this? Then you hold life like a face between your palms, a plain face, no charming smile, no violet eyes, and you say, yes, I will take you I will love you, again.

120. Reading

I wanted a perfect ending, so I sat down to write the book with the ending in place before there even was an ending. Now I’ve learned the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Like my life, this book has ambiguity. Like my life, this book is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, not knowing.

121. The Journey

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice– though the whole house
began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend my life!” each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do– determined to save the only life you could save.

122. Beannacht

On the day when the weight deadens on your shoulders and you stumble, May the clay dance to balance you. And when your eyes Freeze behind The grey window And the ghost of loss Gets into you, May a flock of colours, Indigo, red, green And azure blue, Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight. When the canvas frays In the currach of thought And a stain of ocean blackens beneath you, May there come across the waters a path of yellow moonlight to bring you safely home. May the nourishment of the earth be yours, May the clarity of light be yours, May the fluency of the ocean be yours, May the protection of the ancestors be yours. And so may a slow wind work these words of love around you, An invisible cloak to mind your life.

123. When I Die I want Your Hands On My Eyes

When I die I want your hands on my eyes: I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands to pass their freshness over me one more time to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny. I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep, I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind, for you to smell the sea that we loved together and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked. I want for what I love to go on living and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything, for that, go on flowering, flowery one, so that you reach all that my love orders for you, so that my shadow passes through your hair, so that they know by this the reason for my song.

124. Gratitude

What did you notice? The dew-snail, the low-flying sparrow, the bat, on the wind, in the dark, big-chested geese, in the V of sleekest performance, the soft toad, patient in the hot sand, the sweet-hungry ants, the uproar of mice in the empty house, the tin music of the cricket’s body, the blouse of the goldenrod. What did you hear? The thrush greeting the morning, The little bluebirds in their hot box, the salty talk of the wren, then the deep cup of the hour of silence. When did you admire? The oaks, letting down their dark and hairy fruit, the carrot, rising in its elongated waist, the onion, sheet after sheet, curved inward to the pale green wand, at the end of summer the brassy dust, the almost liquid beauty of the flowers, then the ferns, scrawned black by the frost. What astonished you? The swallows making their dip and turn over the water. What would you like to see again? My dog: her energy and exuberance, her willingness, her language beyond all nimbleness of tongue, her recklessness, her loyalty, her sweetness, her strong legs, her curled black lip, her snap. What was most tender? Queen Anne’s lace, with its parsnip root, the everlasting in its bonnets of wool, the kinks and turns of the tupelo’s body, the tall, blank banks of sand, the clam, clamped down. What was most wonderful? The sea, and its wide shoulders, the sea and its triangles the sea lying back on its long athlete’s spine. What did you think was happening? The green beast of the hummingbird the eye of the pond the wet face of the lily the bright, puckered knee of the broken oak the red tulip of the fox’s mouth the up-swing, the down-pour, the frayed sleeve of the first snow— so the gods shake us from our sleep.

125. The Laughing Heart

your life is your life don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission. be on the watch. there are ways out. there is a light somewhere. it may not be much light but it beats the darkness. be on the watch. the gods will offer you chances. know them. take them. you can’t beat death but you can beat death in life, sometimes. and the more often you learn to do it, the more light there will be. your life is your life. know it while you have it.
you are marvelous the gods wait to delight in you.

126. The Embrace

You weren’t well or really ill yet either, just a little tired, your handsomeness tinged by grief or anticipation, which brought to your face a thoughtful, deepening grace. I didn’t for a moment doubt you were dead. I knew that to be true still, even in the dream. You’d been out–at work maybe?– having a good day, almost energetic. We seemed to be moving from some old house where we’d lived, boxes everywhere, things
in disarray: that was the story of my dream, but even asleep I was shocked out of the narrative by your face, the physical fact of your face:
inches from mine, smooth-shaven, loving, alert. Why so difficult, remembering the actual look of you? Without a photograph, without strain? So when I saw your unguarded, reliable face, your unmistakable gaze opening all the warmth and clarity of you–warm brown tea–we held each other for the time the dream allowed. Bless you. You came back, so I could see you once more, plainly, so I could rest against you without thinking this happiness lessened anything, without thinking you were alive again.

127. After the Funeral

We opened closets and bureau drawers and packed away, in boxes, dresses and shoes, the silk underthings still wrapped in tissue.
We sorted through cedar chests. We gathered and set aside the keepsakes and the good silver and brought up from the coal cellar jars of tomato sauce, peppers, jellied fruit. We dismantled, we took down from the walls, we bundled and carted off and swept clean.  Goodbye, goodbye, we said, closing the door behind us, going our separate ways from the house we had emptied, and which, in the coming days, we would fill again and empty and try to fill again.

128. Bronzed

That dusty bubble gum, once ubiquitous as starlings,  is no more, my love. Whistling dinosaurs now populate only animation studios, the furious actions of angels causing their breasts to flop out in mannerist frescos flake away as sleet holds us in its teeth.  And the bus-station’s old urinals go under the grindstone and the youthful spelunkers graduate into the wrinkle-causing sun. The sea seemingly a constant to the naked eye is one long goodbye, perpetually the tide recedes, beaches dotted with debris. Unto each is given a finite number of addresses, ditties to dart the heart to its moments of sorrow and swoon.  The sword’s hilt glints, the daffodils bow down,  all is temporary as a perfect haircut, a kitten in the lap, yet sitting here with you, my darling, waiting for a tuna melt and side of slaw seems all eternity I’ll ever need and all eternity needs of me.

129. It Was Like This: You Were Happy

It was like this: you were happy, then you were sad, then happy again, then not. It went on. You were innocent or you were guilty. Actions were taken, or not. At times you spoke, at other times you were silent. Mostly, it seems you were silent—what could you say? Now it is almost over. Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life. It does this not in forgiveness— between you, there is nothing to forgive— but with the simple nod of a baker at the moment he sees the bread is finished with transformation. Eating, too, is a thing now only for others. It doesn’t matter what they will make of you or your days: they will be wrong, they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man, all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention. Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad, you slept, you awakened. Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.

130. Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say, It is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.