I have "encountered" Mary Oliver's poem When Death Comes twice in one week and it knocked my socks off both times and stirred me up so much that it needs to be aired again and shared.
Drs Cara Barker's How Alive Is Your Love and Judith Rich's Soulful Living: Why Is Cultivating The Soul So Painful exquisitely soulful articles beautifully highlight this poem and so, they are "must reads". Now, let the lady talk you through.
When Death Comes
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purseto buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened or full of argument.I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
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2 comments:
Catherine,
As I read this, in the back of my mind, I thought of something I ask people to do. Think of this day as if it was your last year -- last day, week or month would be too urgent-- and what would you do then?
Thanks for being and Island of Safety for me,
James.
www.doityourselflifecoach.com
James, you lovely man. You know something, I'm starting to follow my soul's needs because it is just too powerful now and refuses to be ignored. And therefore, I have started - gingerly and with a bit of trepidation - to live as if this was my last year on earth.
That's a damn powerful image and feeling and I'm just beginning to understand why I'm back in the Caribbean once more.
We truly do not step in the same river each time.
Cheers
Catherine
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